The Teacher (2)
by catsvrsdogscatswin
Summary: After the tearful farewell, England (the idiot) apparently botched his spell, and now our intrepid heroine is in a different world alright, but still not hers! So, with little else left to do, she seeks out Ciel Phantomhive in the hopes that maybe the Lord of Games can figure out how to get her home. Unfortunately, Ciel is not in the habit of giving away free handouts.(No pairings)
1. That Butler, Plunging In

_**Hello, and welcome to my second Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji fanfic. This is part of what is promising to be a very long series, so if there's any plot holes, it's probably because I haven't explained it yet, as well as the fact I am focusing on**_ _character_ _ **and not plot. My plan is to run this particular character through as many fandoms as I can, so forgive me if the method is a bit, well, skewed. If you're here from my**_ _Trekker_ _ **fanfic, then you may ignore the unbolded portion below and simply continue reading. For those of you who have not, this is in fact a continuation/sequel to another work of mine in the Hetalia fandom. It can be read alone, but I will reference a lot of things from that fic, so here's a premise of what happened:**_

 _Aryana Thompson is a 17-year-old female from Virginia, USA. Due to a "spell" that a casual internet friend gave her to try, she was sucked out of our world and placed in the Hetalia one. (Cliché I know, but that's only the premise.) As she enters the world and associates with the characters, they are attacked by the "2ps" ("Second Players"), a fanon, darker version of the Hetalia characters. After much fighting, hardship, and near-death experiences, they defeat the 2ps and send them to a world they can't escape from. During her stay in the Hetalia world, Aryana (who prefers Arya) learned fluent German and a somewhat basic grasp of Italian, although she did learn a lot of curse words from her teacher, as well as gun safety (she's not a very good shot), an informal strategy education, and a brief apprenticeship in magical theory. She was sent back to her world by her teacher (England), however he messed up on his spell and sent her to the Black Butler world instead._

 ** _Also, while I haven't rated this fic "M", the continuing themes of a decent amount of violence and a potentially large amount of swear words will be carried over to this story. So if you don't like that, please back out now._**

 _ **November 15, 2015**_

 _Arya's POV:_

 **FWOOM.**

For the third time in my life, everything flipped upside down as I felt myself tumbling helplessly through a continuous, blindingly bright stream of light, my hands wrapping tightly around the straps of my waterproof bag as I felt it being tugged away by centrifugal force, squeezing my eyes shut as the light grew brighter and brighter and the chaotic tumbling sensation grew and grew until–

 **SPLASH!**

I shrieked, although it was immediately muffled, as I plunged into water so ice-cold it seemed like fire stabbing into my limbs, thrashing to the surface of the dark, foul-tasting water. "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?" I screamed into the night sky, seeing snowflakes float down and land in the surface of the –river. I was in a river.

My mind went into overdrive even as my eyes flicked this way and that, taking in the small knots of people dressed in very odd but very familiar clothing walking to and fro, regaining my sense as I swam to shore. There were no rivers near my house. There were no rivers anywhere near my house. I felt my body rack itself with shivers as I finally got to shore and stood, wrapping my arms around myself as my teeth chattered and danced. Whatever river I had fallen into, it was so cold there had been literally chunks of ice floating about inside of it. "E-excuse me, b-but c-could y-you t-tell m-me w-what c-city t-this i-is?" I asked a nearby man who was mucking around with some kind of net, and without looking up, he grunted "London."

Right, so I was in London. Okay, maybe England messed up on the location a little bit. No big deal. I could call my parents and figure something out. It wasn't this cold nor this far along into winter at England's house, so I definitely wasn't in Hetalia anymore, at the very least. I looked a little closer at the man fiddling with the nets, and noticed with a deep and growing sense of foreboding that he was dressed way out of date, as had been all of the people that I'd seen from the river. "What's with the getup? I mean, what year do you think it is?" I asked him suspiciously, the little voice in the back of my head trying desperately to allay my suspicious. Maybe I'd been dropped into the middle of some LARP thing or a movie set. Maybe today was some sort of holiday in England where everybody dressed like they were from an older time. The man finally put down his net and gave me a disgruntled look.

"Look bird, what year do you think it is? It's 1888, as everyone knows."

1888.

 _1888._

 **1888.**

"ENGLAND YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU GOT IT WRONG! AGAIN!"

The man jerked away as I furiously shouted into the night sky, and I turned red with embarrassment, quickly turning and walking quickly towards the packed-together buildings and streetlamps. Given by the fact that I was in London, it had probably been the Thames I'd fallen into, and I made a face, quickly trying to find a path to climb back up to street level. My feet crunched on the frost-encrusted pebbles and driftwood, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I shivered harder. My brand-new black trenchcoat that I had gotten just a few weeks ago was soaked in filthy water –apparently all of the history books that said the Thames was horribly polluted at this point in history were right– and I desperately hoped it wasn't ruined. It'd been a birthday present from a very good friend.

 _Right, there's a ladder._

I grabbed the first rung and heaved myself up, the icy metal biting into my bare, soaked hands as I shivered harder. Before I did anything else in this utter and complete catastrophe, I needed to change clothes to prevent my death via hypothermia. Not to mention the fact that beneath the trenchcoat, I was wearing riveted jeans and a long-sleeve shirt with random swirly red designs –not exactly the most subtle or the most time-fitting outfit for 1888. I made a face as I swung myself over the edge, shaking my head rapidly to fling the ice-cold water droplets away from my shoulder-length blonde hair.

Luckily, it seemed that this was a fairly unpopulated bit of town, and I knocked carefully on a door of a broken-down shed, waiting for several seconds. _No answer._ I ducked inside and set my bag on the ground, opening it up and peering inside. Complete and utter blackness; it looked like the infinite expansion spell had a few odd side effects. I closed my eyes and reached inside, feeling around until I encountered a thick, heavy fabric, pulling it out to reveal a tan-colored winter button-up coat in the Russian style. I quickly undid my trenchcoat and set it on the ground, pulling off my soaked long-sleeve shirt and jeans and trading them in for a clean button-down white shirt and black slacks ensemble. I quickly stuffed my wet clothes in the bag and zipped it up, buttoning up my winter coat and sighing in relief as I was wrapped in insulating warmth.

I swung the bag onto my back and stepped out of the shed, shivering a little at the cold wash of air as it hit my ears. _Right,_ I thought as I shuffled through one of the extra pockets of the bag. _Now that I won't freeze to death, I need to seriously chew England out for this stupid mistake._ I thought with an ominous smirk, pulling out my phone and dialing. It only rang twice before my former mentor picked up, sounding surprised. " _That was quite fast. Is something wrong?_ " he asked in concern, and I smiled sweetly, even though he couldn't see it, as I walked towards the seemingly brighter-lit areas of the London suburbs. "Oh no, not really. You just kinda sorta dropped me IN THE MIDDLE OF 19TH CENTURY LONDON!" I shrieked into the cellphone, and I heard him splutter. " _W-what?! Are you sure!?_ " he stammered in surprise, and I spared an irritated glare at a passing man who gave me an odd, suspicious glance.

"I'm pretty damn sure. For the love of God, all the buildings are less than three stories high and everyone is dressed like they're from the movie _Sleepy Hollow._ "

" _Beg pardon?_ "

"It's a movie about the legend of Ichabod Crane, set in the late 1700s and early 1800s. Really cool and gruesome and violent."

" _I'm sure. Do you know where you are in London?_ "

I blinked and turned in a circle, taking in the street around me. It was late evening or early night, so a lot of the streetlamps were lit –actually, physically lit, since electricity was not quite yet invented or popularized if it was– and there weren't many people on the street or in the shops. Those who were out walking around all gave me strange looks, and the women with children took their offspring by the shoulder and pulled them away from me. I returned the strange looks with one of my own, before I realized that handheld phones hadn't been and wouldn't be invented for more than a hundred years and that to them, I was holding a strange glowing box to my ear, talking to thin air, and responding to nothing.

 _The past is so weird._

"I dunno, I can't find a street sign. Why?" I asked him, and there was a long pause. " _…I don't want to alarm you, but if you're in the East End, you might have problems. Its-_ " he began, but I interrupted him. "I know, the East End is bad. I've read a bit on Jack the Ripper." I told him flippantly, briefly pausing to swing my back onto the ground and reach inside for a pocketknife, before straightening up and putting it in my pocket. Best to be safe, after all. "Dude, I fought psychopaths and lived with a cannibal for almost a month. A bunch of cockney muggers is nothing." I told him confidently, but paused and stiffened as I heard a shout from behind me. "Oy! You!"

I turned around, seeing a thickset man in what appeared to be a policeman's uniform marching towards me purposefully, and I gulped. "Sorry Britain, gotta go." I told him quickly and clicked the phone off, stuffing it in my bag and zipping it closed as I tried my best to appear angelically innocent. "Yes sir?" I asked politely as he came to within a few feet of me, and he narrowed his eyes, tapping what looked like a nightstick against one hand. "You attached to any household?" he asked me interrogatively, and I blinked twice. "Um… _nooo_?" I responded hesitantly, drawing the _"_ no" out as long as I could and trailing off in a question. He looked even more foreboding than before. "Is that satchel your property?" he asked in a quick shift of topic, and I narrowed my eyes and nodded. "Yeah, it's mine. Bought and owned by me for like four years." I said defensively, tightening my grip on the straps, and I yelped as he grabbed me by the ear. "Right, I don't like your look, vagrant." he said sternly, and I squeaked in protest. "Hey! I'm not a vagrant!" I said indignantly, and the policeman gave me a withering look. "Are you attached to any household?" he repeated, and I mutely shook my head. The policeman gave me a triumphant look as I was thrown into a cart. "Then you're a vagrant." he said simply, and I hit the floor facefirst with a _thud_.

"It's something, it's always _something_ …" I muttered, rubbing my head as I looked up at the rough wood of the cart.

 _ **1.30 PM, USA Central Time**_


	2. That Butler, Jailbait

_**Heeeey everybody! All (or most) of my old friends and one new one –hello**_ _TheLightFairyHearts_ _ **, and thank you for your review of literally one word. You guys have no idea how much that panics me (in a funny way, not a serious please-stop-doing-that way) because I desperately try to figure out if that "nice" is sarcastic, approving, casual, earnest, or whatever the hell else can be picked from that one teensy tiny four-letter word. Hehe, but anyway.**_ _Singular Poisonous Ashes_ _ **, she doesn't stab the policeman because he is an authority figure and she respects that, especially after fighting the criminal nations. Thanks for the anticipation**_ _HawthornShadow_ _ **, I'll do my best to live up to it.**_ _TheKatanaMistress_ _ **, hello to you again. My spellcheck now actually recognizes your name on its own, so be proud of yourself. Also, to everybody else, since I am now in a fandom that actually has, well, a plot, I won't be able to update in the middle of the school day. Terribly sorry 'bout that. Also also, for those who hadn't read the first fic, "poppet" is a term of endearment that was both the catchphrase and favorite word of the main villain.**_

 _ **November 16, 2015**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I stared at the unsmoothed wood of the cart with a frown, holding myself still in a corner via my feet wedged against one wall and my back propped against the other, trying to wring out my hair. I had given up trying to stand, although there was room to do so, because if I did the cart would inevitably run over a bump and I'd get knocked on my ass. Calling England again was inadvisable, even though his advice would've been welcome. Talking to a "mysterious" glowing box would not help my case with the law enforcers. If my hunch was correct, I'd been picked up because I ostensibly had no employment or place of residence, therefore making me a bum. If I remembered the fragments from my rather nerdy research on Jack the Ripper correctly –which would fit this time frame perfectly, even though Jack the Ripper had already vanished by the autumn of 1888 and the snow and ice proved it to be early winter at least– vagrants were taken to whatever police station had jurisdiction over the area they were found in, placed in holding, and more or less left there until whoever was in charge decided to put them somewhere else.

That somewhere else was usually a workhouse, and I made a face.

 _Okay, maybe calling England_ _ **is**_ _a good idea._

I quick opened my bag and pulled my phone out of one of the side pockets, flicking it open and starting to text. Luckily, the spell on the phone made it possible to not only text and call across dimensions, but also, as I had just discovered, work when I had no bars and cellphone coverage was a pipe dream of the future. " _Right, so I just got arrested for not being employed and wandering around on a public streets. Any ideas?_ " I typed out, waiting several seconds before receiving an answer.

" _Don't ever hang up on me like that again, you had me seriously concerned. Are you aware of the English laws regarding vagrancy?_ "

– _United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northe_

I giggled a little, even under the circumstances, as I saw his tag, typing back. England's full name was so long that the little text bar couldn't encompass it all, but god forbid the mighty British Empire didn't at least _try_ to write out his full, legal, and formal name.

" _Yeah, I learned a bit about it this one year when I was obsessed with Jack the Ripper. I really don't want to end up wearing myself to the bone in some workhouse, so if you could find which world I_ _ **did**_ _get sent to, that'd be bitchin."_

– _Rye-Rye_

" _Dear God, I thought living with me cured you of your horrible Americanisms. But all that aside, I'll do what I can to see what world you were transported into instead of your own and perhaps lure a familiar face to your location. You said our world was an "anime", so perhaps this one is something similar. I'm entirely certain that, wherever you may have been transported to, it_ _ **is**_ _somewhere familiar. Dimension travel isn't my specialty, but I do know that to travel anywhere specific you have to have some kind of connection with that place. Even if we had an error in our spell that sent you wherever you are now, you would still have some manner of familiarity with that world or dimension._ "

– _United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northe_

I frowned anxiously as I realized something important, steadily typing out my response and grateful for the muting feature on my phone.

" _Since this isn't my world, isn't your world, and isn't the 2ps' world, do you think that spell of yours sent them…here?_ "

– _Rye-Rye_

The response came swiftly, and I let out a big sigh of relief as I read it.

" _I would find that extremely implausible at best. There are literally hundreds of millions of worlds, and the likelihood that they got sent to the same one as you did is, well, nearly impossible. Besides, even if they_ _ **were**_ _, materializing in the same city and the same district as you did? The odds are miniscule. No, for now, you should just go along with what the bobbies will want you to do. If you're worried about them searching your bag and finding something personal, don't; they'll just find a few clothes and other items –I was very thorough. But just in case, you should try to use this phone –and all other magic– as little as possible; we don't know what_ _ **is**_ _in this new world of yours. Head down, nose clean. I'm sure you'll know them when you see them, so I won't bother to tell you to look out for the person or persons I'll lure towards you._ "

– _United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northe_

I rolled my tongue between my teeth as I read the message, then nodded and turned my phone off, stowing it in my bag again. If I remembered my magic lessons correctly, England wouldn't do anything oblique, just use a magical qualifier to search out the "persons of familiarity", then establish a sort of "trace thread" between me and them, which would compel them –for whatever reason that most made sense _–_ to wander towards whatever my current location was. Of course, once I saw the person or people that I would apparently somehow know, I could cajole, bargain, or threaten my way into a slightly better position than "foreign homeless person who also happens to be a kinda cool apprentice magician" by virtue of my beforehand knowledge.

Kind of like any other okatu would, had they been dropped into an anime world.

 _***Time Skip***_

"Six trousers of varying colors and textures, seven shirts of varying lengths, colors, and textures. Three pairs of footwear; one white-black pair of unknown type and make-"

 _That'd be sneakers, grandpa._

"-one pair of sturdy hiking books, and one pair made of unknown, shining material and having a bootlike shape."

 _And those would be the galoshes._

"One dress of the Oriental variety. One black, lengthy coat. No skirts of any kind. No undergarments." a bespectacled British policeman sitting behind the counter before me said slowly, flicking through a piece of paper as my face turned red. _Did he have to say the last one in such a_ _ **judgmental**_ _tone?_ I thought with an exasperated sigh as I held my thoroughly searched apocalypse bag to my chest. Luckily for me, the bottomless spell on it still worked even when it was under an illusion, so the policemen hadn't found the Japanese fighting knife, Colt Action revolver (with bullets) and various other contraband and/or futuristic items I had hidden in there. I sighed miserably as the policeman continued to read through my various "offenses" out loud, tuning him out. _Although I suppose since England was such a prude, underwear would count under "personal and private" stuff that needed to be hidden, even though that looks suspicious as hell to anyone who'd search my bag._ I thought dispassionately, pulling it over my shoulders.

"Any questions?" the man asked briskly, and I refocused on my interrogator, shaking my head quietly. "No sir." I said politely, watching him raise one eyebrow and then nod towards where I assumed the holding cells to be. The policeman behind me –a different one than the guy who'd taken me in _–_ nodded and took me by the arm, leading me towards the barred precincts as I swallowed as imperceptibly as I could. "It's alright mam. Nothin' to fear from holding." he said in a thick London accent, obviously impressed and approving of with the meek and polite attitude I was intentionally exuding. I held back a smirk, looking down at the slightly grimy floor as my lips twitched slightly. Having shared a house with the living personification of the British Isles for over two months had taught me what Englishmen would and would not tolerate, respond to, and approve of.

I sighed as I was gently pushed into a cell and the door locked, turning and giving a cordial wave to the policeman as he tipped his hat to me and walked off along the rows. The inside of the cell was dark and looked filthier than I wanted to contemplate, and I made a face as I set my bag down, turning to face the outside of the cell. England had said he would send the familiar-faced people here, so it stood to reason that they would be coming from the outside. I wrapped my hands around the cold iron bars and peered out –my Russian coat was really quite phenomenal, I was barely cold at all except for my face and hands _–_ looking for someone I recognized. My whole body stiffened as I felt someone grab my arm and whisper in my ear, my heart freezing in my chest.

" 'Ello _poppet_."

I reacted instantly, slamming my free elbow behind myself and up as I heard a _crunch_ and a surprised shriek of pain, whirling and using the momentum of my whirl to push the person back, plunging my hand into my pocket and yanking out the pocketknife –which the policemen had probably not recognized as a knife, giving the folding mechanism _–_ I had stored there earlier and brandishing it threateningly. I was halfway to slashing the guy's throat and sending him to the river of no return, before I realized that the dirty, unkempt man of middling age and obvious beer-belly lying on the floor was _definitely_ not the person I had feared and instinctively reacted to when I heard the word "poppet".

 _Shit, I just knocked out some day laborer or something._

I made a face and rubbed the back of my neck as I stared down at the unconscious body, feeling inexplicably guilty, but then again, the guy had grabbed me with obvious ill intentions, not to mention the fact that he was in a holding cell of a police department, so it was probably for the best that I had knocked him out. I sighed and quickly grabbed him by the wrists, dragging him to the opposite side of the cell, before letting go and returning to my spot by the edge of the bars. I sat down, cross-legged, and closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the bars.

What can I say, world-transportation made me sleepy.

 _***Time Skip***_

"-will not have these bloody savages detained in my station!"

I jerked, my eyes opening slightly as I glared at the bright reflection of the sunlight outside my line of vision.

 _That voice sounded…oddly familiar._

Remembering England's instructions, I quickly rubbed my eyes and shook myself awake, sitting up to see my cellmate –still asleep _–_ and an odd influx of people rushing to and fro. Most of them seemed to be policemen and an odd amount of what looked to be Hindu men, most of them in tattered clothing and protesting at the top of their lungs. I blinked twice, my mouth moving wordlessly as I tried to figure that out, before a (possible) penny dropped and I swallowed hard.

 _Please tell me that I'm wrong._ I thought desperately, squeezing the bars harder and pressing my face against them, trying to see what was going on. A darkly-haired man with his sideburns and hair going to grey was standing at the end of the hallway, shouting at someone just beyond my line of vision. He looked and sounded quite vaguely familiar, as well as being the voice I had heard before, and I swallowed hard once more as he stalked around the corner.

"Lord Randall, it was far from my intention to inconvenience you in any way. These people attacked me on my way home. I thought you might wish to interrogate them on their possible connections to the case, however, if it is your intention to allow the possible culprit to go free, it's no business of mine." a cool voice answered him, and I nearabout swallowed my tongue when I saw a small black-haired boy who stood at about my shoulder walk around the corner with him, dressed in a chic black suit and top hat and with a simple black eyepatch adorning his right eye. He was followed by a tall, pale man with short, fine black hair and deep red-hazel eyes, dressed in a black double-breasted walking coat, who was wearing a look of semi-cold impassiveness.

 _Shit. No. No no no no no no no. Not this world. Not these two. Not the world of crazed reapers and demonic contracts._ I thought desperately, clinging to the bars like a drug addict clinging to their last fix. The young boy was still trading politely-worded insults with Lord Randall, stopping less than a few feet away from the beginning of the hallway and still three or four cells away from my own. Sebastian –it _had_ to be Sebastian, nobody was that tall or that inhumanly perfect _–_ stood at attention at the Earl's side, his eyes wandering in tiny increments, probably bored with this whole affair. I froze and tried to look innocent as they passed over me, then sharpened. His hazel eyes began to glow slightly red as his impassive look deepened into something more aggressive, and I blinked twice, then paled, the pieces quickly clicking together in my head as then I swallowed hard.

 _Sebastian equals demon._

 _Demons in the real world equal a magician's summoning._

 _Living with a magician and learning magic equals magician's aura._

 _Most supernatural creatures can sense magician's auras._

 _Demons usually aren't happy about being summoned, and carry an animosity towards magicians because of that._

"Aw, hells bells."

 _ **8\. 50 PM, USA Central Time**_


	3. That Butler, Oriental

_**HEEEEEEEEY! *excited waving***_ _Moontan_ _ **! It's been**_ _ages_ _ **! How ya'll doin'? Hello to everybody else too, and two new people! Hey**_ _piratespain13_ _ **and**_ _okcatgirl_ _ **! Nice to see some new blood in the area. And**_ _crystaldragons101_ _ **too, and I know some of you guys were anonymous lurkers, but still once you've shown up, I feel like its polite to say hi. And about Arya quietly (or not so quietly) freaking out about being in the Black Butler world, I personally think that Black Butler is an awesome world to read/watch/think about, but a not so awesome one to be in, especially for Aryana, who has had some interesting and rather nasty experiences with dimension travel. Not to mention that, at this point, Sebastian is only aware of the fact that she (might) be some kind of magician, and therefore has absolutely no reason to trust her at face value.**_

 _ **November 18, 2015**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I swallowed hard, watching Sebastian narrow his eyes as he mutely stared me down, as if he was quietly and sadistically taking inventory of all my limbs and how they could best be removed from my torso if and when there were no witnesses present. _Right, so what did I learn about demonic protection spells and banishment?_ I thought frantically as I mentally scanned over the (few) incantations I'd memorized in my three months of magical teaching. I didn't dare move as I thought, frozen in place with my hands wrapped around the bars. It might've been almost a year since I last read the Kuroshitsuji manga, but I did remember that Sebastian was capable of moving much faster than the human eye could track –and all it took to kill someone was a bit of pressure in the right place. Right now, I was in semi-view of witnesses. Even Mr. Perfect Demon Butler couldn't do something nasty if there were _witnesses_.

Then I made a face as I remembered that the extent of my magical education was limited to absorbing power and conducting it to a more experienced magician, as well as basic principles of communication with magical creatures, basic theory, and a few (also basic) protection spells.

 _It's not like anything I know would_ _ **kill**_ _him –or any other kind of demon, really– but it'd slow him down, right?_ I thought hopefully, then gulped as Sebastian leaned down to Ciel's ear and whispered something, his eyes still fixed on me. The aristocratic Englishman raised an eyebrow at his butler, then turned to glance over at my cell, whereupon I gulped again and sincerely wished I'd learned how to turn myself invisible when I'd been learning magic. It wasn't like I was sorta kinda maybe a huge fan of Black Butler (the sort of fan who was extremely devoted and nerdy, but you didn't hear it from me), but that was when all of the characters were safely fictional and, if offended by your supernatural allegiance, couldn't open a can of demonic whoop-ass on you the moment you got away from public viewing.

I watched nervously as Ciel spoke to Lord Randall quietly, gesturing in my direction. Demonic death or not, I wanted to be out of sight, and I ducked away from the bars, scooping up my bag and swinging it over my shoulder as I felt for my knife in one pocket. I heard footsteps quietly and deliberately approach, swallowing hard as I saw Sebastian appear with the keys, his image the very epitome of quiet, obedient butler. He opened the cell door and swung it open, smiling at me with all the innocence a demon could muster. "I'm so very sorry for any inconvenience you have suffered, Madam Representative." he said gallantly, half-bowing in my direction. I blinked at him in bewilderment, my hand still wrapped tightly around the handle of my folded pocketknife.

 _Angry demon-man say what?_

"It's not exactly an inspiration of confidence when the representatives of Funtom's American Branch cannot even remember where they were employed, and get picked up on the streets for vagrancy." Lord Randall snorted dismissively from just beyond my line of sight, and I saw the subtle twitch of Sebastian's eyebrow as he gazed at me impassively, the smile fading into a faint half-smirk. Apparently I was to play along. "Um, yes sir." I said meekly, holding tightly onto my bag and edging nervously past the tall, pale man, completely and utterly unwilling to turn my back on him. My education on magical theorem leaned heavily on what supernatural creatures it was best to avoid and/or offend, and demons ranked very highly on that list, for several very good reasons. The most worrying for me at the present moment was the average demon's automatic dislike and/or hatred of magicians (or apprentices), followed closely by their sadistic personalities and penchant for vengeance.

I looked down at Ciel as I edged sideways a little, making sure Sebastian was in my left peripheral rather than directly behind me. The small, cold-eyed boy raked me up and down with his single remaining eye as I scuffed my foot on the ground, then it moved over to his butler. My skittishness around him was apparently not missed, and Ciel narrowed his blue eye, before sharply turning around and dismissing an irritated Lord Randall with a wave of his hand. "You have the suspects, deal with them as you see fit." he said dismissively, and I jumped as I felt Sebastian's hand on my back, nudging me forward. I quickly edged away, looking over my shoulder to see him smile innocently. His hazel eyes quickly flashed red, then reverted to normal in another blink, and I swallowed hard.

Of all the ways for me to join up with the Kuroshitsuji cast, this was probably the worst.

 _***Time Skip***_

"Ah, I see you've made a new friend, my lord."

I jumped at the semi-familiar voice –only without the Russian accent– and looked up to see an Asian man in a turquoise _changshan_ smiling at us from what looked to be Ciel's carriage. His eyes were closed, and his short dark hair seemed to be a much more fluffy variety than Ciel's or Sebastian's. I blinked twice, then smiled awkwardly to myself as I realized that Russia –who had given me the thick, warm winter coat that I still wore– and Lau –who was currently hanging out of the carriage and waving obliviously at us– had the same English voice actor in my world. Lau's voice had a subtly different sound than Jerry Jewel's though, a bit more Asian-sounding and slightly deeper. _Weird, but I guess that he's got to have his individuality somehow._ I decided absently as Sebastian handed Ciel into the carriage and I jumped in on my own.

It was even weirder to realize that Sebastian and _France_ , of all people, also shared the same voice actor.

As Sebastian climbed up to take control of the horses, I looked between the two males. Given as the carriage was a four-seater, I had to pick and choose my alliances carefully. Cranky 13-year old demon-commanding aristocrat, or unreadable opium-trafficking Chinese man who also had an odd propensity for violence? Granted, the violent bit depended on whether or not I was in the anime or the manga rendition of _Kuroshitsuji_ , but at this point, I was willing to go with what I knew and who was the most consistent throughout both mediums; Ciel Phantomhive. I swung my bag down at my feet and sat down beside the Earl, giving him ample room as the carriage jolted into motion.

"So, it's been a while." Lau said conversationally, seemingly focusing on me with his innocent yet slightly unnerving smile. "Quite a while. I don't believe I've seen you since…well, you know what I mean." he continued knowingly as I swallowed, staring at him as Ciel glanced at the opium trader in cautious surprise. Lau's ominous air suddenly disappeared, and he tilted his head to the side slightly as his innocent smile grew. "So, who are you again?" he asked cheerfully, and I sweatdropped as Ciel smacked himself in the forehead, muttering something unflattering.

"Um, I'm Arya, Aryana Thompson. Nice to meet you." I said politely, holding out my hand, and Lau continued to smile obliviously as he took it. "Oh, you're American?" he asked curiously as he shook my hand with a casual firmness, and I nodded with a slightly world-weary sigh. "Ooh, goody. I'm Lau, and that over there is the Earl Phantomhive." he said with a nod in Ciel's direction, and I glanced over at the younger boy nervously. Ciel had his cheek resting on one fist, gazing out the window, and glanced over at us as Lau said his name. "Miss Thompson is Funtom's American Branch representative." he said shortly, sticking to the previous cover story either he or Sebastian had cooked up, and Lau cocked his head as that disconcerting smile appeared on his face again. "My my, the City Police's office is an odd place to find an official company manager." he said as he slipped back into that sneaky, ominous persona, and I gave an awkward half-laugh, rubbing the back of my neck, as Ciel fixed his cold glare on Lau. "The blunders of Scotland Yard are no business of yours, Lau." was all he said, before looking out the window again.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence, while I tried (in vain) to figure out from the clues I had been given thus far about whether or not I was in the manga or the anime. I was roughly 90% certain that we were past the Jack the Ripper Arc –thank god– and since Ciel and Sebastian had been at a police station, accompanied by an influx of Hindustan East Enders, I wagered that I had been dropped into the Kuroshitsuji universe sometime around the Curry Arc. I would have to wait until A) I went to or saw the curry competition, and Queen Victoria either had the psycho angel Ash or one of the Double Charles as her butler, or B) after the curry competition, Ciel was invited to the circus and/or a haunted mansion. To be brutally honest, I was on the fence about which one I wanted to be in. The anime was slightly less dangerous, but it was also kinda _fucked up_. Seriously, that dual angel pair Ash and Angela creeped the hell out of me. The manga was less crazy, but it also had a semi-sociopathic Sebastian, reanimated dead corpses, a (possibly) evilly plotting Undertaker, and other _lovely_ elements.

Honestly, it was a toss-up which was worse.

 _ **8.42 PM, USA Central Time**_


	4. That Butler, Fitting In

_**It completely slipped my mind up until now, but I realized that I never told you guys that in my previous fic the**_ _Trekker_ _ **, all of the magical chants were actually the lyrics of various character videos –usually Britain's. I also checked a book on Victorian customs and suchlike out at the library, so I am now at least theoretically able to detail Arya's exploits with accuracy. It's not like we're striving for too much though, because A) it was only one book and B) that's really not the big deal here. I just don't want Aryana or the others to do something illogical for the time period. Also, for the bit about clothing and legs, I don't know how true it actually was (my research tended to imply that, while true, it was exaggerated) but in the manga, they do make a joke out of it several times, so I just went with that. Also, as that may show, I am planning on going with the manga version of events. It's easier, and I own most of the manga anyway. Still waiting for the volumes 20 & 21, but that's only a matter of time.**_

 _ **November 21, 2015**_

 _3_ _rd_ _Person POV:_

Ciel waited somewhat impatiently as Lord Randall continued to rant about the young Earl's complete and utter lack of diplomacy and common sense, wanting to get back to the townhouse as soon as possible. He'd been summoned to London for an absolutely ridiculous task and now, out of politeness, was forced to listen to the irritable Commissioner Randall as he ranted on and on about –well, to be honest, he was just ranting because he disliked the House of Phantomhive. Mid-rant, he felt Sebastian lean down over his shoulder. " _Young master, there is someone of interest within that cell._ " the demonic man whispered softly in his ear, indicating a cell further down the hall, and Ciel turned to him, raising an eyebrow silently. Sebastian smiled down at the Earl, his mouth stretching in that subtle, sardonic smirk of his. "I believe you would find it most entertaining." he added, and Ciel rolled his one remaining eye slightly.

"Lord Randall?" he requested suddenly, making the older gentleman pause mid-sentence. He nodded towards the cell Sebastian had indicated. "Apparently one of my company representatives has gotten taken in by your men. I'd like them to be released." he said firmly, making the lie up on the spot as he gestured towards the cells. Lord Randall glared at him for a moment, slowly folding his arms. "Why would one of _your_ company's managers end up in our jurisdiction?" he asked skeptically, and Ciel's eye twitched slightly. He disliked making up complicated lies on the spot without any previous information. "They're quite forgetful; it's been a problem before." he said, lying through his teeth, and Lord Randall gestured curtly to one of the uniformed officers, who handed the keys to an angelically smiling Sebastian.

Ciel's eye twitched again. His butler only smiled like that when he was about to A) do something extraordinarily disruptive to Ciel's plans or B) do something that was sure to cause problems in the future.

Ciel barely kept his eyebrow in check as a young blonde girl –although older than him by several years– was escorted out of the cell by Sebastian. "It's not exactly an inspiration of confidence when the representatives of Funtom's American Branch cannot even remember where they were employed, and get picked up on the streets for vagrancy." Lord Randall snorted from behind him. "Um, yes sir." The blonde said meekly, holding tightly onto some kind of satchel and edging sideways around the tall butler. Ciel's eye narrowed. He'd yet to see a female act nervous around the supernaturally handsome butler; much as he hated to admit it, Sebastian seemed to have been correct about something being _off_.

The female's appearance kept in form with the more or less alternating ordinary and extra-ordinary aura. Her blonde hair hung around her face like she had been dunked in water, but it looked like it would be slightly wavy if it had been given the chance. She wore an ankle-length cream-and-tan overcoat which completely enveloped her form, which ended in a pair of oddly well-made shoes. He had no opinion on the coat, as it seemed to be of foreign make. Her eyes were honey-brown and her skin looked slightly pale, her fingers wrapped in thin medical bandages. He couldn't see what she was wearing under the long coat, although, given the rest of her contradictory appearance, it was probably similarly formed. "You have the suspects, deal with them as you see fit." he finally said, before turning around and waving his follower –and new attachment– forward with him.

 _Arya's POV:_

"We labored in vain…and now it's begun to snow." Ciel muttered wearily as Sebastian took his coat and hat, marching into the foyer of the large townhouse as Lau and I trailed behind. It'd taken all day to travel back to his place of residence, and, as Ciel had complained, it was snowing. "The culprit might be among them. Let us wait for Lord Randall to contact us." Sebastian said smoothly, then turned to me. "May I take your coat?" he asked, extending a hand, and I reached for the buttons, before freezing in place. _Wait, what was the Victorian policy on a woman wearing pants?_ I thought frantically as Sebastian stopped moving, raising one elegant eyebrow at me. "Something wrong?" he asked politely as that demonic red light flickered in his eyes again, showing his insincerity, and I smiled awkwardly. "Um…ehehe…Is there a maid or something like that for me to talk to?" I asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head, and Sebastian turned, clapping his hands sharply. "Mey-rin!" he called, and I swallowed gratefully as I saw the maid scamper out from around the corner, where I _thought_ I could glimpse Finny and Bardroy ducking behind the wall, probably to avoid being chewed out by the ultra-efficient butler.

"Sir yes sir!" she chirped happily, and I gave her an awkward wave as Sebastian indicated me. "Um…I don't suppose you have any spare skirts or something?" I whispered, leaning in closer to her as she turned pink. "Um…well, why is that?!" she squeaked, leaning closer with me. "I'm sorta not wearing a dress or anything under this coat." I said sheepishly, and she turned red. "I mean, I've got pants…" I added quickly, and her cherry-red face lightened slightly in color. "Mister Sebastian, our guest is coming with me right now, yes she is!" she blurted loudly, grabbing me by the elbow and hauling me towards some other part of the estate. I could see Sebastian smirking subtly, as if he had heard our conversation –which he probably had, being a supernatural being n' all that. I could hear Lau and Ciel talking behind him.

"I'm tired of being summoned to London every time a silly incident like this occurs!"

"You must howl if there is even the faintest possibility of harm befalling Her Majesty. Such is the…"

"I can't let a guest not have the proper attire, its indecent, yes it is!" Mey-rin said indignantly to herself as she dragged me along and I lost the audio from the hall, and I sweatdropped. "Well, its normal where I come from…" I muttered under my breath, and she looked over her shoulder. "Did you say something?" she asked, and I affixed an innocent smile on my face. "Nah, I didn't say nothin'." I said happily, before she pushed me into some kind of clothing room. "Right, so take off your coat, Miss…um, what was your name again?" she said professionally, then trailed off and looked uncertainly at me through her thick glasses. I took pity on her and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Name's Arya, Aryana Thompson. I'm fresh in from America, got lost, fell in the Thames…" I trailed off slowly, uncertain of whether to not to stick to Sebastian and Ciel's cover story. Not that I was complaining about the convenient cover story and subsequent liberation from the holding cell, I was just mildly suspicious of the circumstances. Neither Sebastian nor Ciel _ever_ gave out free favors.

 _Well, guess I'll just roll with it for now._

"…forgot about my appointment, got picked up by the bobbies, and Lord Phantomhive found me and got me out on the way back to the mansion." I rattled off, and she smiled, fidgeting with the edges of her thick glasses. "Well, we'll find you a nice new dress, yes we will. You seem to be about my size, so we can let you have something of mine until we get a tailor to make you up something. Any favorite colors?" she asked cheerfully, turning to the large wardrobe. I shrugged dismissively. "Eh, anything that won't make me indecent." I said flippantly, watching her rummage around inside of it. She turned to face me, holding a starchy-looking dress in one hand. "Try this on; it suits you, yes it does." she said with a helpful smile.

The next ten or so minutes were characterized by extreme awkwardness and questioning on both sides as well as much cursing (on my part) as I tried to figure out how to put on an old-fashioned dress and much squawking (on Mey-rin's part) as she saw that I didn't wear (from what I heard amidst the splutters) a chemise, drawers, or whatever the hell else Ye Olde women were supposed to wear underneath their dresses. After much blood, sweat, and tears, I was finally encased in a trim blue dress and my previous outfit, including my nice warm coat, was packed away in my bag. Since it was Mey-rin's, it was too loose in the chest and only came down to just above my calves, but still, if the Victorian's were going to be freaked out about me not wearing skirts, then this was infinitely preferable to the one Chinese dress I did have, which, although fantastically awesome and embroidered, also had slit sides that showed one's legs. Mey-rin's protests had proven to me that yes, this was the famous time period in Great Britain when the legs were considered the most obscene and suggestive parts of the human body.

 _Just roll with it, just roll with it…_ I reminded myself over and over again with my teeth gritted in frustration, trotting after Mey-rin and hauling my apocalypse bag behind me. If nothing else, England could probably send me a picture of the sigil with which to get home, and if not home, somewhere where wearing pants was not utterly taboo for someone of my gender. "We'll set you up in this nice room, and you can be all rested for tomorrow, yes you can!" she said cheerfully, opening the door on a very nice bedroom, as far as Victorian standards went. "You have a nice night!" she added, giving me a smile and wave as she closed the door behind her. Since I'd spent several months in a very similar bedroom, although modernized, I didn't have a problem with it and, tossing my bag on the floor nearby, collapsed facefirst onto the nice, soft, cushy bed. It only took about three more seconds for me to fall dead asleep, completely forgetting that I hadn't taken any measures to involve or ingrain myself with the demonic, semi-magical populace.

 _ **2.46 PM, USA Central Time**_


	5. That Butler, At Midnight

**_Hey again ya'll, a thousand apologies and whatnot for being late. It snowed today, the first snow of the season! Me and my sister went out sledding and made a fort out of branches, so the day as well spent. We also had the family Thanksgiving at our house this year, so my mom and day have spent the last few weeks cleaning literally EVERYTHING in a blind panic. Side note, naan bread is a kind of sort of fluffy, flat type of Indian bread that tastes absolutely awesome, I can't even begin to describe it. I had some at Disney World in Florida, and while that means it might not exactly have been accurate, it still tasted bloody awesome. And yes, I get the irony of Arya's statement about fanfiction at the bottom. I put it in there on purpose, because it made me laugh. Aryana has now become self aware and is cussing me out._**

 ** _November 26, 2015_**

Arya's POV:

"Wshshsh…zzz…" I snored, my face buried in the soft, warm, and slightly herb-smelling pillow and my body covered by an equally warm, fluffy blanket. There was nothing quite as awesome as sleeping in a comfy bed, especially after being dunked in a polluted, icy river and then being dragged to jail. I had spent an unwelcome portion of the last few months sleeping badly, whether because of the sorcerous cannibal that owned the house I slept in (long story), wounds caused by said cannibal, or because I was stuck on a different timezone then the place I was sleeping in. But now neither of these things had happened, and I was _absolutely content_ …

 **WHAM.**

 **BAM.**

"MISTER SEBASTIAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

I groaned as the sound of multiple pairs of feet thundered past my room, yanking the quilted blanket up over my head. _It's something, it's always bloody something…_ I thought with another groan, before yanking the blankets down and blearily glaring at the thick wooden door. I stood up and threw the blankets off, quickly raking my fingers through my hair as I stalked over to the door in place of actually brushing it. Thankfully, I hadn't taken the dress off, and I could throw the door open and stalk down the paneled corridor with impunity. I increased my pace as the sound of running got further away, and finally came to a halt with the others in front of what looked to be Ciel's bedroom. I stared blankly as I saw Mey-rin, Bardroy, and Finny screech to a halt in front of the butler of the household and Lau, with Ciel cursing and struggling in the grip of Agni a few feet away. "You three, you are in the presence of our guests." Sebastian scolded, turning away from Lau. "What is it? Has something happened again-" he started, but the three of them interrupted him, all talking at once.

"Something's wrong! Really, really wrong!"

"Crazy wrong!"

"Wrong it is!"

"The food, its-"

"The garden, its-"

"The laundry, its-"

Sebastian blinked at the trio of other servants as they continued to babble and panic. "Wrong…?" he repeated, deadpan, as if it was a condition he was altogether unfamiliar with. He looked out the nearby windows, pacing around the house as we all followed behind. A really fancy breakfast was already cooked, and the garden was trimmed, with snow sculptures in the shape of elephants all over, and a bunch of freshly laundered sheets were flapping in the wind. Sebastian stared at all these changes. "What in the world…?" he muttered to himself, and Agni smiled. "Ah! I have taken the liberty of handling the morning chores!" he said cheerfully, and Sebastian frowned slightly, walking over to him. "You should not have! You are our guest, so please make yourself at home." he reprimanded as Lau and I looked around at all the improvements, while the three servants just stared in awe at Sebastian and Agni.

The aforementioned Hindustan man smiled proudly. "My prince aside, I am merely a butler, so I felt it my duty to help Mister Sebastian." he said sincerely as he bowed a little bit, then stood there smiling as Sebastian stared at him for a few moments. "Mister Agni…" he said in awe, before turning around and "smiling" at the three Phantomhive servants. "Why do you three not kowtow and beg Mister Agni for the dirt under his nails?" he asked sweetly. "Your lives might gain a little value that way."

All three of them froze for a few seconds, then tackled Agni, all shouting at once.

"Gimme the dirt under your nails, dirt!"

"Me too!"

"Me three!"

"Eh?! What is going on?!" Agni squeaked as he was buried under a pile of shouting bodies, and I snickered as Sebastian turned away, a subtly exasperated look on his face.

 _***Time Skip***_

"So?" Ciel asked as I tentatively poked at the steaming food on my plate. Ciel, Soma, Lau, and I were all seated at the dinner table, eating shrimp curry and French toast with ginger. Ciel was at the head of the table, with Soma at the other end, being served by Agni. Lau and I were seated at the longer side of the table, with our backs to the fireplace behind us, Lau at the side closer to Ciel, me at the side closer to Soma. "How long do you intend to stay here?" Ciel continued irritably as I decided that Sebastian probably wouldn't have poisoned the food since Agni had been the one to cook it, taking a huge forkful and chewing thoughtfully. It wasn't half bad, if a bit spicy. "We'll leave when we've finished our errand." Soma said as he chewed on some naan bread, confirming that this indeed was the Curry Arc. Ciel grew a tick mark. "That-" he began, but was cut off by Lau.

"You mean the person you were looking for before, right?" he asked, leaning past me, and Ciel glared at the Chinese man irritably. "And why are _you_ staying over as w-" he tried again, but Soma cut him off. "Yes. I'm in search of a certain woman. This one." he said anxiously, holding out the worst drawing of a woman (or anything else, for that matter) that I had ever seen in my life. I choked on my food as Lau hid a smile behind his long sleeve, passing the paper on to Ciel. "Her name is Mina and she was a servant in my palace." Soma added, and Ciel and Sebastian sweatdropped slightly as they looked at it. "This is…" Sebastian began diplomatically as Soma finished eating his bread with a crunch. "I drew it. You'll know right away when you see her because I drew her so well! Isn't she lovely?" he asked, and Ciel looked at his butler. "Sebastian, will you be able to seek her out with this?" he asked gloomily, and Sebastian looked at the doodle with misgiving. "Even for me, this is a bit, erm…well, I shall try." he compromised, and Lau took the paper from them, tilting it one way and then another.

"Oooh…I myself have never encountered a beauty like this, I saaaay!" he commented with a slight snicker, and I tried very hard to muffle my laughter with the curry so I wouldn't offend anyone. "To be expected!" Soma said proudly, completely missing the buried insult. "She was the most beautiful woman in my palace." Sebastian took the paper from Lau again and studied it as Ciel set his fork down. "So why is that woman in Great Britain?"

Lau and I looked on as Soma and Agni began loudly praying to an idol, with Ciel grew another large tick mark. "Listen to me!" he barked, as we all crowded around and watched them bow to the odd-looking statue. "What are they doing all of a sudden? Where did they get the statue from?!" Ciel hissed in frustration as Lau scratched his head. "They seem to be praying, but their object of worship seems quite surreal." the Chinaman commented, and I chewed happily on the naan bread Soma had left untouched. It really was quite good. "You would call that an object of worship?" Sebastian muttered skeptically, cupping his chin with one gloved hand. "It looks nothing so much as a statue of a woman dancing in a frenzy on the abdomen of a man whilst carrying severed heads and wearing a necklace of said heads…to me." he added witheringly, and Lay smiled. "Pretty much!" he agreed happily, and I sweatdropped again from beside them.

"This is a statue of the goddess Kali, a deity of Hinduism, our faith." Agni explained happily, and Ciel sighed wearily. "So it is an Indian god." he muttered, and Agni turned away from the statue. "Our goddess Kali is the wife of the god Shiva and the goddess of strength. She protects against misfortunes, there are also other divine favors. In ancient times, a devil dared to challenge the goddess in a battle. Of course, the goddess was victorious…" I tuned Agni out as I continued eating; not that I didn't like the story or anything, but mostly because I still had no idea why Ciel had invited me into his household and come up with that oddly convenient cover story, and I needed to plan things out.

Violent action was right out, since attacking Ciel would bring Sebastian's full and awful wrath upon me, not to mention it just sort of felt _wrong_ to attack an anime character. Like suckerpunching a non-evil character from Disney. Sneakiness was probably a bad idea too, since I wasn't quite sure what their motives were and going up against Ciel Phantomhive, the Lord of Games, in a strategy contest was _definitely_ not my cup of tea. Continuing as I was right now was also a possibility, but I was leery of being that passive around a demon I knew was capable of murder. Ragnarok from _Soul Eater,_ maybe, but only if he was in chibi form. I sighed heavily.

 _Well, looks like I'm gonna have to wing it. Just like always._

 _***Time Skip***_

Having obtained permission from Ciel, just before he was dragged off by Soma and Sebastian to start the round of chores that would culminate in a fencing battle, I was currently in the mega-huge library of the Phantomhive townhouse, looking for a spellbook. Any spellbook at all, really.

The ones I had read in England's world were all just basic grounding for any and all topics, and I had skimmed over the (extremely few) volumes on demons my teacher had allowed me to have, not out of any dismissive feelings on demons, but more because they were all in the Ye-Oldest Olde English humanly possible, and I could barely read it. Hopefully, if there were any books on magic and/or demons here, they would be a bit more legible.

My face brightened as I saw a likely-looking volume, and I pulled it out of the shelf. As I had hoped and expected, Ciel had some research material on supernatural entities –probably because of what he had serving as his butler. A thorough searching of the same bookcase revealed six or seven more volumes, and I quickly gathered them up and laid them down with a thump on the nearby wooden table, going to another shelf and doing the same thing again and again, until the whole table was filled with paper and hardcover volumes. There were no chairs, but I could make do, and I cracked open the first book.

Latin.

I stared at the book for a few seconds, before closing it with a snap. I had learned a smidge of Latin when England taught me basic runes, but I only knew words, not sentences, grammar, or how to construct any of the above. I stared at the rest of the pile with misgiving, before slowly setting the first book to the side. _Okay, that was probably just a fluke, right? I mean, it's not like every magic book is Latin._ I thought tentatively, picking up the next book in the pile and cracking it open.

Latin again.

 _Okay, fuck this._

I grabbed the next few books off the pile, flipping them open one by one.

 _Latin._

 _Latin._

 _Greek._

 _Latin._

 _French, I think…?_

 _Latin._

 _Latin._

 _Greek._

 _Greek._

 _Some kind of runic language?_

 _Greek._

 _Latin._

I finally slammed the last book shut with a curse, looking at the huge pile irritably. My knowledge of both Greek and Latin was basically nill, and I didn't know more than two or three words in French. _Goddamnit._ I thought with an exasperated sigh, pinching my nose as I tried to think. This was not a major obstacle. This was not a major obstacle. I could learn Latin. It couldn't be that hard, right? I already knew German and a little bit of Italian. But then I would face the problem of the books potentially being useless, and me having wasted all that time learning a language for nothing…

 _Goddamnit, there really are no easy decisions here._

I sat down on the hard wooden floor and sucked in a few deep breathes, trying to think. Hypothetically, if I remained a part of Ciel's household, I could use the money and connections thereof to find some occultists –I knew there were a lot of them about, since they played a very big part in certain sections of the manga– and buy the necessary spellbooks. I didn't know what those spellbooks would be, since England had deemed the world-transport spell too complicated for me to learn. I could text him and find out, or better yet, have him send me a picture of the previous sigil we had used. If Ciel kicked me out for one reason or another, I could, somehow, buy or threaten my way to Germany, where I t least knew there would be a bunch of genuine occultists, as exemplified in the Emerald Witch Arc. _They were in the southern portions of Germany, right? Ah, who cares. If and when I need to go there, I can simply ask around. The witches live in a haunted forest –I'm sure that'd be pretty famous._

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. The characters in all the fanfictions I'd read had this whole dimension-switch thing so much easier than me; opportunities just seemed to drop right into their laps. Of course, that was probably the fault of the writers who created them, all of whom more or less liked their self-inserts or OCs or whatever they put in there, and did their noble best to keep them alive and in good health. They also usually had a romance or two in the offing, but hey, I wasn't going to judge. All I knew was that if someone was psychotic enough to write my story, and dumb enough to star me as the main character, they'd probably either get kicked off their account by traumatized viewers or be bombarded with so many flames they'd spontaneously combust.

I blinked as I realized that the room had gotten extremely dark, and realized I had probably been in the library for hours. The only light came from the nearby candlestick and the large window, which let off the weak, watery glow characteristic of moonlight. I quickly got my legs out from underneath myself and stood, blinking a little as I walked away from the table and passed the comparatively bright candles. I pushed open the door with a _creak_ , the dark corridors revealing that it was, indeed, night. I pushed my sleeve up, looking at the softly glowing watch strapped to my wrist. It was luckily waterproof, or else it would've been destroyed by my plunge in the river, and I felt around the rim, before clicking a button as a powerful white LED light flashed from the northernmost edge. It was a flashlight feature I hadn't yet gotten the chance to try, and I was pleased with how well it worked. (It was another birthday present, this time from Germany.)

I crept along the hallway quietly, trying to find my way via memory back to either my room or somewhere inhabited by human beings (and/or demons, if I got desperate enough). After what felt like several minutes of wandering around the dark, wood-paneled corridors, I heard familiar voices. I let out a faint sigh of relief and walked a little more quickly, switching off the light. It wasn't like I was trying to sneak up on anyone or anything like that, it was just that, again, I figured it was probably best to show as little modern appliances and technology to the lovely, rightfully superstitious people of 19th-century England. I recognized one voice as Ciel's, and slowed uncertainly as I came to a halt in front of one of the heavy, wooden doors.

A month-long, forced confinement with a psychopath made sneaky, bad habits that were hard to break.

Berating myself for being a spying, no-good idiot who was listening to someone else's conversation for no absolutely no real reason, I inched closer to the door and peeped through the tiny crack between the old-fashioned doors. Again, force of habit was hard to break, and sometimes the only way to get good information was to eavesdrop. My angle was bad, but I could hear Ciel talking irritably, which to be both unfair and charitable, was his most common tone. It sounded like he was talking to Lau, and it also sounded like it was something involving the British "underworld" that Ciel ruled. "I've left management of the Oriental Quarter to you. So you would have an idea of the number of people coming and going from the suspect areas." the small Earl snapped, and I frowned as I tried to catch Lau's answer. It was too quiet for me to hear though, and I cursed soundlessly in frustration.

A hand suddenly landed on my shoulder as I jumped roughly a mile high and squeaked, hearing the familiar, ominous voice behind me.

"And what would you be doing up at such a late hour, listening in on my young master?"

 _Oh, fuck all kinds of duck._

* * *

 ** _Happy Thanksgiving!_**


	6. That Butler, Caught In the Act

_**As for the part about the year, Arya's math is actually off by a bit. 1888 was actually only 127 years ago, not 200, but then again, she was probably tired at the time and rounding is always easier. I didn't want to state the actual year because ten to one there will be multiple people reading this when it is no longer the year I wrote it in, and I'm too lazy to be going back and changing the date every year. Lazy me is lazy. On a slightly similar but also completely different note (and also with my thousand and one apologies) the reason why I'm so late with this chapter is because tri finals were this week and I was missing like half the work for one of my classes (*cough* because I was working on the prequel for this instead of doing homework *cough*) but that's all done with now, I fixed everything, and now I can just settle down and write. Life is good.**_

 _ **December 4, 2015**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I nearly broke my neck as I whipped my head around, seeing Sebastian smiling innocently, but with a flat red gleam behind his eyes. Before I could stop him, he shoved the door open, and I gulped as I saw Ciel turn, recognize me, and frown suspicously. Lau was stationed by the window, smiling happily now that he was no longer the object of discussion. "It seems you had an uninvited eavesdropper." Sebastian said to his master as he scooted me into the room, and I gave Ciel a nervous, terrified smile. "Um, listen, this isn't what it looks like-" I began hastily, but he cut me off with a raised hand. "Sebastian," he said deliberately, looking at the butler instead of me. "Why did you wish for me to bring this woman to my mansion?"

I could _feel_ Sebastian's "innocent" smile from above me.

"She's a magician, my lord." he said angelically, and I saw Ciel's one remaining eye widen sharply. I suddenly realized that while Sebastian only had an instinctive, somewhat casual animosity towards me, Ciel had suffered quite greatly at the hands of the large group of "magicians" who had used him and others to summon Sebastian in the first place. (Personally, I was still somewhat skeptical of their magical prowess, because no sorcerer _I'd_ ever known –and I'd known three good ones and one _majorly_ evil one– would have _ever_ called a demon a "noble beast". Or, for that matter, a "noble" _anything_.)

I also realized that he was probably seconds away from telling Sebastian to snap my neck like a twig.

"I'm only an apprentice!" I blurted, and Ciel closed his mouth, looking at me with wary hatred. Lau suddenly chimed in from the window, and I jumped, having completely forgotten his presence. "Oh~? A real magician? Can you levitate?" he asked cheerily, and I laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Um, no…"

Lau tilted his head to the side, still smiling.

"Can you cast fire?"

"Nope."

"Can you hypnotize someone?"

"Yeeeeah…no."

"Can you multiply objects?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Can you-"

"That's enough!" Ciel barked angrily, startling the both of us. He glared at Lau, pointing to the far door. "This is no business of yours, so why don't you make yourself useful and see to it that the stupid prince wouldn't come in here?" he spat, and Lau pouted, pushing away from the wall. "Bye bye magician~! It was nice knowing you!" he said cheerfully as he passed me, ruffling my hair without turning around or looking back, and I watched helplessly as the only neutral party walked out the door and closed it behind him. Ciel returned his glare to me and/or Sebastian, and he curtly gestured to the chair in front of him. I nervously jerked away from the demonic butler and sat down, desperately attempting to come up with a plausible cover story that wouldn't get me killed.

Ciel Phantomhive crossed his legs and intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on them as he looked at me piercingly. "Are you aware of the recent incidents occurring in London?" he asked briskly, and I decided a bit of deliberate naiveté was necessary. "You're talking about that whole thing with Jack the Ripper?" I asked innocently, and his eye narrowed. "If you _are_ an American, what are you doing in England?" he asked, shifting topics, and I licked my lips. "To be honest…I have no idea." I said slowly, a story forming in my mind. "I actually have no idea what I'm doing here at all."

Ciel raised an eyebrow, prompting me to elaborate.

I sighed and shifted awkwardly in my seat, before looking him dead in the eye. "I know you have a demon as a butler, but do you believe in real magic? Serious magic?" I asked him seriously, and something flickered in his eye. "I will reserve my belief until I am offered concrete proof." he said coldly, and I ran my tongue over my lower lip. "Well…um, here goes, I guess." I said sheepishly, and inhaled once before speaking again. _Call on the fanfic clichés, call on the fanfic clichés_. "I'm not from this…world. Dimension. Whatever you wanna call it." I told Ciel, watching him snort in disbelief. "I'm serious. The world I'm from doesn't have any kind of magic or demons or anything supernatural at all, and it's like 200 years in the future. I accidently got transported to different world, where I was taken in by an English…spirit. Thing."

Explaining the concept of the Hetalian "nation avatar" was probably a bad (not to mention irrelevant) idea, so I didn't bother.

"He taught me a few basic tricks and whatnot, then found out a spell that he thought would send me back to my world, but it…didn't, as I'm fairly sure you can tell." I added sheepishly, scratching my cheek. "I did learn enough to recognize that this –um, Sebastian, was it?– was a demon, and I know the basics of spellcasting, but that's pretty much it." I finished, looking Ciel straight in the eye and doing my be-damned best to seem honest. It was depressingly easy, and I made a mental note to myself to stop spontaneously lying as soon as it was safe to do so. I'd started out with the basics, white-lying to people coming to the hotel I worked at and on the rare occasion covering for someone who was having a fling, but I had swiftly upgraded to bullshitting a psychopathic British cannibal (who was also holding me prisoner and torturing me at the time) straight to his face and just now graduated to fabricating a story in front of a demon that, for over 20 manga volumes, I had never seen fail at his job.

My eye twitched slightly. _I really am far too good at this. Honesty is the best policy. As soon as it's safe again, i.e. not around these two, I am so going straight._ I thought firmly, then blinked as Ciel beckoned Sebastian over to him and the two whispered together for several minutes, occasionally glancing over at me. I smiled nervously and very much hoped that I wouldn't be chased from the mansion by an angry (or indeed in any other mood) demonic butler. Sebastian finally smirked, backing away from Ciel with a bow, as the young Phantomhive looked at me piercingly. "Is the spirit that taught you magic in communication with you?" he asked briskly, and I thought of my phone, the battery slowly draining away without any kind of charging outlet available, and Britain's admonishment about using it. "Um, I think I can only reach him if it's an emergency." I said slowly, then watched Ciel think musingly.

It was kinda creepy to realize that even though he was –at the least– four years younger than me, _he_ was the one in charge here, in charge of me, in charge of Sebastian, in charge of everything.

"What is your goal here? Is there something you're trying to accomplish?" he eventually asked out loud, still staring me down. I blinked at him for a few moments, then shrugged in a dismissive sort of way, looking over his shoulder as I did. It was hard to meet that piercing blue gaze for long periods of time. "I wanna get back to my dimension." I said firmly, and Ciel laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. "What would you need to accomplish that?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious. I began to feel slightly hopeful. The plan I had of asking him to find magic books (or doing it myself) might, just might, work. "Um, I'm gonna need to keep learning magic. I didn't know much spells, and only my teacher knew the one he used tried to send me back. I could recreate it with enough study and practice." I told him confidently, and Ciel stared at me for a few seconds more, obviously thinking.

"I don't trust you." he finally said blatantly, his thoughtful look finally changing to one of dislike, which he aimed at me irritably. "The story you just told me is absolutely preposterous and you'd be a fool if you expected me to believe it." he continued devastatingly as I winced; however, a faint smirk grew on his face. "However, if you are a real magician, you may be of some use to me. We'll renegotiate the terms of your stay here once Sebastian has confirmed something for me –in the meantime, he will take you to your rooms." Ciel waved a beringed hand at Sebastian, who took it as the cue it was and approached me as I hurriedly got to my feet. "Thanks." I said anxiosuly as Sebastian shepherded me forward, but paused at a call from Ciel. "And Madam Thompson?" I turned around, frowning nervously. "Yeah?" I asked as Sebastian waited behind me.

Ciel's smile had all the icy friendliness of a snake. "I'll let you off this one time because you didn't know me or my household. But the next time I catch you spying on me, I'll have Sebastian dangle you from the rooftops."

I gulped hard. "Sir yes sir."

 _Scary thing was he'd probably do it, too._

 _ **12.27 PM, USA Central Time**_


	7. That Butler, Morning Magic

_**Hello to friends/reviewers old and new. 'Tis wonderful to see you all again. Thanks for the love**_ _Esme-chan12_ _ **, I'm glad to hear it. And**_ _Blazeheart876_ _ **, thanks for your input. I was wondering how long it would take people to read the full prequel to this, so thanks for telling me. Hey to**_ _sallycoombs_ _ **, never seen you around here before, but welcome to the show, as it were. :3 I'd also like to check that everyone here has read the Hetalia prequel to this, yes? 'Cause I do make references. *yawn* Nothing much has been happening these past few days/weeks, so I guess I'll just tell ya'll old news. I finally put up the authentic cuckoo clock that I got when I was in Germany (in the Bodensee region, for those who wonder), so now I have a clock in my little computer nook that goes "cuckoo" every hour, for whatever number that hour is. It goes twelve times for noon (and midnight, but none of us have been up then to witness it) and so on and so forth, so that's an interesting thing to have. My friend got me to watch Final Fantasy VII Advent Children, and I kinda sorta bought the DVD. Not out of any sort of affection (*cough* or knowledge) of the franchise, but just because I thought it was a really nice action movie. I'm actually watching it right now, so yes. Amusement. Action scenes. *CRASH* Damn sign…**_

 _ **December 8, 2015**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I would like the ladies and gentlemen of the court to know that, after Sebastian escorted back to my room for the night, I stayed in there like a fricking angel. I wrestled the buttons and laces and whatever-the-fuck-else apart on the dress and (almost literally) climbed out of it, before draping it as neatly as I could on the nearby chair. _No reason not to be tidy about things._ Once I had gotten into my combat pajamas, consisting of a rather worn black tank top and old army fatigues –which was a blessed relief, after all the starchy weirdness of that dress– I lay on the nice, soft, comfy bed, and reached for my apocalypse bag. I unzipped one of the pockets and pulled out my phone, powering it on and waiting for the homescreen to pop up. I grinned ruefully as I saw my background, which was a picture of me, Romano, and Prussia all standing in front of the London hospital I had recuperated in. Prussia was grinning like an idiot and dunking my head down with one hand, while Romano had his mouth open mid-shout, both of his elbows embedded in our sides. I remembered Italy taking that picture, catching both me and Romano by surprise –thus the brunette's angry shouting and vicious elbow tactics to make us back out of the picture, so he wouldn't be caught with actual _friends_. Even though I had a bunch of photos of them (and others), this was the only one I had that had all of us in the same picture.

Fangirls would kill for half of the stuff on my phone's camera roll, now that I came to think of it.

But anyway, as I lay stomach-down on the bed in the manner of texting teens everywhere, I wondered whether or not Britain would even be awake. I mean, it was pretty late at night, and presumably we were both in the same timezone, although in different dimensions. _Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained._ My fingers moved over the keys as I shrugged to myself, my eyelids reminding me insistently that it was really, _really_ late at night and I'd had a rather long, frustrating day.

" _Right, so apparently I'm in yet another anime world. It's called "Black Butler", and it's full of demons and Grim Reapers and angels and who the hell knows what else, so there probably won't be a shortage of magic books. Luckily the plot isn't anything too complicated and I remember it fairly well, not to mention the fact that (as far as I know) the Black Butler fandom doesn't have any psychotic fandom theories._ "

I paused, wondering whether or not to inform Britain of how potentially dangerous this world was _anyway_ , then silently shook my head. _Nah, I know what I'm doing. He'll just worry._

I continued typing.

"- _If you could send me a picture or something of the pentacle you guys used to send me here, it'd be really helpful. All the books on magic (or what I think are on magic, hard to tell when you can't read 'em) that I've found so far are in Latin, Greek, or some other stupid language that I don't know. Not that I'd normally be so eager to pass up an opportunity to learn a new language, but right now its December and I've been missing from my house since like, July. My parents are gonna kill me when I get home, if they haven't freaked out and moved to Kentucky or something. Which reminds me, since there aren't any outlets in 1888, how do I charge my phone?"_

– _Rye-Rye_

To my surprise –and relief _–_ the answer came almost immediately.

" _Sending you a picture of the sigil we used would be absolutely useless; it failed once, and using it again might tangle your problem even further. I do suggest reading up on the books that you do find –and yes, learning Latin or Greek would be useful. I had enough books in my home that I could pick and choose, and give you the proper volumes in English; however, I've had over 900 years to collect those books. I would wager that very few magicians in whatever world you have fallen into had the time and resources to gather such a library like Romania, Norway, and myself did. You'll have to work hard at this._ "

I groaned to myself quietly. I had no huge problem with hard work –I came from a farm, after all– but _magical_ hard work was another matter entirely. _Migraines, here I come._ I thought wearily, before continuing to read.

" _The basic formula is fairly simple, so you should have no problem memorizing it. Your intent is to transport yourself and your effects (_ _sui_ _,_ _specifica_ _,_ _proprius, if you remember) to your own dimension proper. The transportation in and of itself is not terribly complicated, it's the destination which will give you problems. You will need an absolutely unholy amount of qualifiers, as well as an enormous amount of magical power and amplification seals. Collect as many "qualify" marks for that world as you can, put them in the "reicio" portion of the pentacle so that you don't end up in our world or a different part of that world. You should write your findings down in that journal you were always scribbling in, if you still have it. I'll send you pictures of the qualifiers we used to negate our world and the world the Second Players came from, as well as the qualifier for the world we sent them too, so you don't end up right where you started –or worse. And about your phone; I did not provide for any kind of charging, since I assumed you would have it available upon your arrival, so it would be best to keep it turned off and conserve power. You should do your best to accomplish things on your own, and call me only if it is an extreme and urgent emergency. But you should do fine. After all, you seem to thrive on that sort of thing."_

– _United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northe_

" _Right dude, sure thing."_

– _Rye-Rye_

I remembered enough about my lessons to know that ignoring Britain's advice would be extraordinarily risky. The dude had a pretty good head for strategy and he'd had god-knows-how-long to study and perfect his magical skill; any suggestions he provided (unless he was angry) were very good ones. I quickly powered my phone down after my reply, before tucking it back in my bag and blowing out the candle on my nightstand. I yawned once, stretching vigorously, before wriggling under the covers and promptly falling asleep.

 _***Time Skip***_

Morning brought the arrival of bright light streaming through the heavy curtains, the sun reflecting off the snow and slicing into my Victorian room, the rectangular beam of sunlight falling across the bed and stabbing right into my eyes as soon as I hesitantly cracked them open. I promptly rolled off of the bed with a shriek that, had I been coherent, would have probably been something resembling "MY EYES!"

I groaned as I lay on the floor, fully awake, if only because my head hit the wooden floorboards rather painfully and it was hard not to be awake when you were half hanging out of what was once a very warm, snuggly bed, but was now a choking deathtrap for your legs. "I hate the damn winter sun…" I muttered under my breath, rubbing at my eyes with the back of my wrist as I waited for the spots to fade out of them. _Stupid winter weather. Stupid sunlight refraction. Stupid scientific laws of nature._

For those who haven't noticed, I was not a morning person when woken up unexpectedly.

However, an unpleasant awakening wasn't going to stop me from going about my day. I quickly kicked the sheets the remaining way off my legs, letting out a small grunt of pain as I flexed my left shoulder. The scar there, a remainder of a knife wound, twinged unpleasantly as I moved, a reminder that I had landed on it rather hard. I had similar whitened, old scars scattered across my body; an awkwardly placed one that curved from just beneath my left shoulderblade to just an inch past my spine, resultant of shrapnel from a rather impressive car crash, a smaller, older one on my right hip that had come from a throwing knife, and the most recent, a still-pink scar that cut across the front of my throat, which had come from an unsuccessful throat cut. I was fairly certain either Ciel or Sebastian –definitely the later– had noticed my bandage-wrapped fingers, which were there to help protect the healing nail beds.

All of these wounds had been caused by the Second Players I had pissed off, so to be honest, I wasn't overeager to start another fight.

I quickly set my back and feet against the wooden floorboards and began my daily sit-ups, trying to sort out my thoughts as I did. Ciel and Sebastian, if they accepted my cover story, would allow me to stay at the Phantomhive's residence, where I didn't doubt I would soon be put to use as Ciel's pet magician. Depending on the antagonist (and whether or not this was the anime or manga) I was gonna have to learn a lot of magic, fast. I supposed that if Ciel was going to take me on, he'd be expecting me to be useful, and who better to find magic books than the demonic butler who could get a list of all doctors in London, interrogate them, and return to a townhouse in time to make tea?

Sit-ups complete, I moved on to stomach crunches.

Fitting in among the Victorians would also be a bit of a trick, so I supposed I could keep relying on Mey-rin to teach me things, since _every other character_ was a male. Except Lizzy, of course, but I almost certainly wouldn't have reliable access to her, so, the maid it would have to be. I spared a moment to wish for a track field or a set of weights like there were at Germany's house, but no use crying over spilled milk. I'm sure there had to be some kind of Victorian equivalent, I could ask Bardroy or Finnian. The servants seemed to be a lot nicer than their presumptive master, not to mention the scary-as-hell (hehe, pun) butler.

I finished my morning exercises and brushed my hair and teeth, threw on the extraordinarily complicated dress, strapped my watch to my wrist and shoved my pocketknife in the dress's pocket, and was out to face the day. After a bit of wandering around the rather lavish townhouse, I finally found what seemed to be the drawing room, where Lau was reading the morning paper and Ciel was dealing with his mail. I glanced over Lau's shoulder to see him reading about the attacks on coffeehouses typical to the Curry Arc. "Let's be frank, that duo has seemed terribly dodgy from the start." he said, probably commenting on Soma and Agni. He noticed Ciel's large pile of letters. "Why Lord Earl! What a popular little thing you are!" he added, then noticed me sneaking into the room. "Hello little magician!" he greeted happily, and I sweatdropped, waving awkwardly to him. I'd hoped to avoid Ciel's scrutiny, but it appeared that, after a quick glance upward, he didn't really care. "Can I have the paper when you're done?" I asked Lau sheepishly, and he beamed, nodding happily. "Here! I was done with it anyways." he said cheerfully, handing it off to me as I opened it with a snap.

"He's actually right though, what's with all the letters? Aren't you busy?" I asked over the paper as I noticed Ciel slit one of the envelopes open with his letter opener. "Quite. Every time I come to London, I can't go a day without one of these." he growled irritably, then answered Lau's first comment as I hunched into my cushy armchair and tried to be unnoticeable. It was apparent that by now, while Ciel didn't trust me as far as he could throw me, he did trust my somewhat obvious fear of Sebastian to keep me in line and make sure I didn't blab any of his secrets. "However, I can't fathom why they would cause those incidents." Ciel added grumpily. "Going by that behavior, the theory of a grudge against colonial rule seems weak at best. Even if they think ill of Anglo-Indians, attacking them indiscriminately entails too much risk. In the first place, if they were indeed the perpetuators, would they leave the townhouse in blatant view of my sight as they did? That's like practically begging me to suspect them!" he snorted irritably. "Just thinking back on it makes me angry! Besides-"

Lau cut him off with an oblivious little smile "Well then! To expediate matters, you just have to trail them at night. Right?" he asked happily, and I shyly peeked over the edge of the newspaper again. "Um, what's all this about?" I asked with deliberate naïveté, and Ciel switched his icy look to me, remaining silent for several seconds. "Sebastian confirmed your story, so I suppose you can continue boarding at my home." he finally said. "We will continue with the story Sebastian constructed, and Lau, if you don't stick to that-" Ciel's threat was cut off by Lau smiling angelically. "Why, my little lord, whyever would you suspect me of such a thing?" he asked sweetly, and I could _feel_ the disbelief Ciel aimed at the Chinaman. "Anyway, you're be accompanying us. Might be useful to have a magician under my employment." he said absently as he looked down at his desk and ripped open another letter, and I made a mental note to learn Latin as fast as humanly possible.

 _ **9.25 PM, USA Central Time**_


	8. That Butler, Sizing Up

_**A thousand, a billion, a jamillion and one apologies for not posting this sooner. Black Butler is the sort of stuff that I absolutely adore reading, but am less than adept at writing. Also, because eventually I will need to explain this fully –the magic Arya was taught and usually uses is roughly explained thus; pentacles are used to summon large amounts of power, and the words, runes, and signs inscribed within the pentacle are used to channel it towards a specific purpose. Verbal magic chants are also used to help direct the flow of power, ending in whichever result the spell is geared towards. Most spell-users improve with age and experience; innate personal power and control will grow with practice, thus older and more powerful magicians (i.e. England, Romania, Norway, and Oliver, the magicians Arya will typically reference) can use magic without a physical pentacle, memorizing and calling to mind the image of the appropriate diagram, using it and the spell's chant to bring about their desired result. Younger, less experienced magicians (i.e. Arya) rely on actually drawing most of their pentacles and spells, however they have memorized one or two less complicated and, invariably, less powerful diagrams. Magicians rely heavily on writing down as many of their incantations and diagrams as possible, so they often have a self-made book on hand that holds their most useful spells. (Arya uses her journal for this purpose.) Repercussions of failed incantations vary depending on the spell and the mistake; fatalities only occur when a magician is messing with a dangerous magical entity or an extraordinarily advanced spell, in which case, they probably deserved it. Mistakes for more minor spells usually result in large or small explosions, backward or mishmashed results, or simple no results at all. The type of magic that is used in the Black Butler universe (and this is not cannon by the way) is the incredibly, utterly, mathematically precise kind, the kind where if you pronounce so much as a single syllable of a single word wrong, or leave a microscopic hole in a circle, you're dead meat, even if you're just lighting a candle.**_

 _ **December 26, 2015**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I blinked as I saw Sebastian waiting for me after I had left Ciel and Lau to plot and plan like the pair of sneaky people they were. He had an icily polite smile, and bowed to me slightly as I approached. I slowed down, swallowing nervously. "Um…did you need something, Mister Sebastian?" I asked hesitantly, and he answered without wavering from his polite smile and posture. "As women of your age are unused to wearing the garments of this age, I have sent for a tailor. Your fittings are due today, and if you would allow me, I shall take you to the drawing room where she awaits." he said, every inch of him an English butler, and I gave him a tiny, un-fooled smile, following close behind as he started leading me down another oak-paneled hallway.

"Look, Mister Sebastian, I know about your…um, species." I said awkwardly after a few seconds of stifling silence. He said nothing and didn't turn around, but I could feel his attention as I hastily continued. "I've never summoned a demon –or anything else– in my entire life and I certainly don't intend to change that. I'm pretty sure my teacher hasn't either, but then again, I wouldn't know. I don't want to get in you or the Earl Phantomhive's way, so…" I trailed off as Sebastian finally came to a halt and turned around, still wearing that pleasant half-smile that was just about as sincere as Ciel's hatred of candy. (If the ladies and the gentlemen of the court would remember, Ciel loved sweets.)

"Most magicians I have seen rely on complex magical rituals, relying on proper intonations, signs, and spellcraft. I have yet to see a single one perform "magic" that is not fueled by another's power." he said clinically, and I gulped as I saw a brief red flicker in his eyes. "That power usually comes from us." he added with a faint, equally insincere smile, and my eyebrows furrowed slightly. That was vastly different from the magic Britain had taught me, which was the usage of magical signs (always involving a pentacle) and the application of the power gained thereof. Ritual, while important, played a fairly minimal part; if you pronounced something wrong, unless you made a terrible mess of it (like saying "kitty" for "pretty" or something like that), there wasn't any kind of problem. If you drew a line wrong, the magic just simply wouldn't work, or it would backfire in a proportionally large/small explosion. The magic Sebastian was talking about seemed to be the incredibly dangerous, imprecise form talked about in some of the fantasy books I'd read, where if you so much as left a single microscopic hole in the design you were going to get eaten by Cthulhu (or something even nastier).

"Well, I dunno about my teacher using it, since he is so old he might've at one point, but he certainly never _taught_ me that kind of magic." I replied after a few seconds. "Seriously though. If I'm going to be living in this house for the foreseeable future, I'd really be happy if I could walk around without jumping at your shadow every three seconds. I'd like to avoid any hostilities if at all possible. Truce?" I said, holding my hand out in front of me. Sebastian raised one perfectly black eyebrow, staring at me for several uncomfortable seconds. I squirmed a little under his scrutiny, but kept my hand out, and he eventually gave the first genuine (and therefore extraordinarily tiny) smile I had seen on him yet, and extended his own hand, crushing mine in a firm handshake. "Very well. You can relax, I won't murder you in your sleep." he said, his eyes glossing over red for a split second as his tiny smile grew into a slightly-less-tiny sadistic grin. "However, since you _are_ a magician, I hope you don't expect to be treated with kid gloves." he added ominously, and I smiled nervously. "Right…ehehe…"

Sebastian finally let go of my hand –which was numb– and turned, pushing open yet another set of doors as I made a face behind him. _If I'm not careful, I'll get lost in this huge firetrap of a townhouse._ I thought cynically, before Sebastian beckoned me in. I blinked as I recognized the tailor who, as far as I knew, had appeared a few times in the manga but never in the anime, feeling an acute sense of relief wash over me. _Well, whatever happens, at least I won't be dealing with the psychotic angel duo._ I thought with a hopefully imperceptible sigh, watching the woman glare at Sebastian, mumbling something about "hardhead". She had light brown eyes, much like my own, with brown hair pinned at the side of her head in a sort of curlicue, and was dressed in a low-cut white shirt with a brown vest over it, as well as a matching brown skirt that came down to her ankles.

"This is Miss Aryana Thompson, from America. She has lost all her clothing in the transit over the ocean, and as American fashions are vastly different from our own, you will need to teach her how to wear them. Miss Thompson, this is Miss Nina Hopkins, the tailor for the house of Phantomhive. " Sebastian said briskly, and I gave her an awkward wave. "Nice to meet ya." I said, and her eyes suddenly blazed. "Finally! A woman in the world of business!" she squealed, snatching me out from behind Sebastian and spinning me around in a circle. Sebastian watched the proceedings with a faint smile, before bowing himself out. I had forgotten how very _liberal_ Miss Nina was in the manga, but it would be a welcome change.

She finally let go of me as I wobbled to a halt, and Miss Nina calmed down, squinting at my outfit as she pulled various materials from her bag. "Did you borrow that from the maid?" she asked curiously as she intentionally pricked her finger on the head of her needle, making sure it was sharp. I blinked. "Uh, yeah." I said as she motioned me towards a stand. "I thought so; I made that uniform. What were you wearing before?" Miss Nina asked as she made me get up on it, and I paused.

"Um, a shirt and pa –er, trousers." I hastily amended, wondering absently whether or not the word "pants" had been invented in 1888. _Huh. You know, maybe I should research this sort of thing when I get home. Be cool to know._ I thought meditatively, but was jolted out of my thought process by Nina's eyes flashing dangerously again. "A woman after my own heart!" she shrieked in excitement, before yanking her tape measure taunt like someone brandishing a nunchuck. "Right, so get out of that dress so I can take your measurements." she said happily, and I scratched the back of my head uncertainly. "Um, that's just the thing…I'm not quite sure how." I told her, sweatdropping, and her smile became slightly less maniac. "Well, why don't I show you how! Its easy." she said confidently, then grabbed a button and unsnapped it.

I was eternally grateful for Miss Nina's commentary on Victorian (phrased as English, but what was a little white lie amongst friends) clothing options, showing me how to undo and redo the clothing that I would be wearing. Once that was over with, I stood self-consciously on the pedestal, wearing nothing but my undergarments, as Miss Nina measured me. "You're quite tall. Are all Americans your size?" she asked curiously as she stretched the tape measure from my waist to the nape of my neck, and I resisted the urge to shrug. "Um, I dunno. Maybe?" I guessed, never having been curious about that particular bit of my national identity. "Any preferred colors or styles?" she asked as she made me hold my arm out and measured it from shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist, and wrist to shoulder. I thought about it for several seconds. "Um, well, I'm gonna be doing a lot of-" Insert job that involved a lot of drawing supplies. "-accounting n' stuff, so something that can stand a little wear and ink? I'm sure you can tell I'd be better with something as simple as possible." I said hesitantly. I didn't want to get any of my clothes unsalvageable-ly dirty when I was performing magic.

" _Tres bien!_ Anything for a more formal occasion, seeing as you'll most likely be accompanying the Earl to any company parties?" she asked enthusiastically, and I bit my lip as she began measuring my legs. "Um, I have an Oriental dress already, but it has slits in the sides and shows my legs." I told her uncertainly, and she "hmmed" absently. "I'll whip something up for the more stiff-necked parties, but that will do nicely if you're not so concerned." she said decisively, and I shrugged, which was now safe to do since she was wrapping the tape measure around my waist. "Whatever. You are the tailor." I said complacently as she made me hold out my other arm, then remembered something as she began to measure the circumference of my wrists and elbow. "Um, can I also get a long cloak, black?" I asked her awkwardly, and she looked up from my shoulder. "Of course! Why do you need it?" she asked with a flourish as she whipped the tape measure away from me and began jotting down my measurements on several pieces of paper. I didn't even blink. "Long story." I said with faux-weariness, since there really wasn't a good way to say "I need it to use magic and/or magical summoning purposes".

Miss Nina shrugged cheerily as she continued writing on her paper. "Well, it should be relatively easy to make regardless. I must say, you have quite the muscular shoulder-silhouette for a woman, even a working one." she added as she began pulling out pieces of paper and a set of pens. I shrugged as I quickly wriggled back into my dress. "I was born on a farm, and I've been working with people in the military for a few months now. I've bulked out." I said honestly, snapping the last button as I watched her pen scratch rapidly across the papers, the light of inspiration gleaming in her eyes. "A tasteful red dress in Imperial silk for formal…gold-cream ribbon and tassel trimming for elegance…a light green cotton, trimmed in yellow, for casual business…a dark sapphire velvet, with a raised collar, for more serious matters…warm brown linen for horseback-"

"Um, Miss Nina?"

She paused in her frantic scribbling. "Yes?" she asked impatiently, and I rubbed the back of my neck. "Horseback riding? I don't-" She waved me off as she continued scribbling frantically. "You are the head of an important business branch. You'll need to have the same skill set and wardrobe as your noble sponsor, to impress any visitors. _Oui_?" she asked as she crosshatched something on one of the drawings, then raised a hand and made a dismissive shooing motion. "You can run along now, I'll sew and tack these up before sundown." she told me, and I shrugged and hopped off the stand. "Right. Bye Miss Nina!" I called as I stepped out the door, and she murmured something in agreement, still intently focused on her work. I felt my stomach rumble hungrily and remembered that I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and quickly ran over my memory of the townhouse, heading towards where I thought the kitchen should be.

The smell of something cooking –hopefully something edible– began to become more and more apparent, confirming my guess, and I sped up slightly. I came to an unassuming looking door in an equally spartan hallway –probably because guests and important people weren't supposed to be wandering down in this direction– and pushed it open. I watched Mey-rin as she leaped up from her spot sharing a cup of tea with the three other servants. "Miss Arya, you shouldn't be down here! This place is for the servants, yes it is!" she squeaked, clearly embarrassed for me, and I smiled and rubbed the back of my neck. "I still ain't used to being treated so nicely, being head of the branch and whatnot. I got hungry and I was wondering if there was anything down here." I said brightly, and I saw Bardroy, who was slouched in a corner and glaring impotently at the busily cooking Sebastian, who was doing something with some pots and pans, look up and crack a grin. "It's nice to see another American 'round here. The name's Bardroy, I'm the cook." he said in a friendly fashion, saluting me with two fingers. I saluted him back the way Germany had taught me, and we grinned at each other for a few seconds before I was distracted by Mey-rin busily brushing off my borrowed dress.

"You're very important, miss, and it's not for you to be down here." she scolded, and I gingerly grabbed her wrists and pulled her away. "Seriously, its fine. I'm not _that_ important." I told her, and she gave me an uncertain look over her thick glasses, then a tentative smile. There was a metallic-sounding clatter from Sebastian's area. "The American branch of Funtom's is still rather small, so Miss Thompson is only slightly your superior." he commented smoothly, and Mey-rin's smile became slightly more genuine. "Well, its nice to have you in London then, yes it is. How long are you staying?" she asked cheerfully, and I flicked my eyes towards Sebastian's back, then returned my gaze to her. "As long as business dictates." I said, with a shrug, hoping that that was an acceptable time period for Ciel. Mey-rin smiled, accepting the excuse, and then blinked, quickly bustling over to one of the counters and pulling out a loaf of bread. She methodically chopped it up as I stared, nonplussed, and then bent down and took out a jar of something. "Well, we can't have you fainting from hunger, but it's almost dinner time. A sandwich should do, yes it should."

Bardroy had sensed the possibility of cooking uninterrupted by Sebastian, and edged over, a slightly manic gleam in his eyes. I surreptitiously edged the bread away, remembering that his cooking methods usually involved high explosives, and I _was_ kinda hungry. "So, where are ya from?" Bardroy asked, lighting up a cigarette in a semi-disappointed manner as I edged the plate away from him, then hurriedly stopped Mey-rin from adding what looked like plaster to my sandwich. "Virginia. Um, maybe this would work?" I tried, holding up a jar of mayonnaise as she fiddled with her glasses, peered at it, then laughed sheepishly and took it from me. "Sorry, but my sight isn't all the best, yes it is." she told me as she continuing preparing the sandwich, and I could practically feel Sebastian's contempt radiating from across the kitchen.

I had to stop several more inedible disasters before I could finally grab and chow down on my sandwich, sighing happily as my stomach stopped growling with hunger. Sebastian was still preparing what I assumed to be dinner, and Bardroy had started eyeing the butler contemplatively again, as if he was debating whether or not to try and assist him in dinner preparations. Mey-rin had gotten out the silverware and was polishing it busily, and I eyed the knives (and forks) absently, never having seen a genuine set of actual _silver_ silverware.

Then I remembered what Sebastian occasionally used them for, and took a mental note to start using chopsticks.

 _ **9.22 PM, USA Central Time**_


	9. That Butler, Snowy Sneakin'

_**Myur, hello everyone. It's me again. Hey**_ _ **Ariaprincess**_ _ **, thanks for your appreciation of the Trekker and this, the sequel. Just to let everyone know, I**_ _ **also**_ _ **don't plan on stopping here either. This isn't the last fic with Arya in it. Hell, this isn't even the middle of the series I'm planning. So, hehe. You guys have something to look forward to. I've actually written out a skeleton plotline for the whole series, so there's a 95% chance that it WILL get posted and finished. So yay for you guys. And me too, but I'm kinda itchin' to get this series finished so I can work on my other stories. Won't happen for a while though, so I guess I'd better get to it. Lau is also slowly assimilating himself into my mind as my favorite comedic relief. He's rather amusing in the manga.**_

 _ **December 29, 2015**_

 _Arya POV:_

I watched Soma wave to Ciel from my spot by the fireplace, having been updating my journal to the best of my abilities. "Well, we're heading out. Hurry to bed, little runt Ciel!" he called cheerfully as Agni placed his hands together and bowed from the doorway, before both of them turned and left. Ciel irritably tossed his newspaper down and glared at me and Lau, who was doing something with his pipe and a knife. "You two are coming with us. You might be useful." he growled, and I quickly followed after him and Lau as they headed for the front door. I grabbed my Russian coat from Sebastian and shrugged it on, shoving my journal in the extra-large pocket it had in the lining. I'd written down the few spells I could perform in there, since I had only ever managed to memorize a spell that cast a wall in front of a person or object, and that could be shattered by a stronger magician or even enough impact force.

I shivered and wished I had mittens as we slunk out into the London night, although my winter coat was still warm and toasty. The snow had stopped falling and the night was clear and cold, our feet crunching softly on the snow as Sebastian took the lead with Ciel, Lau, and me following behind. We snuck after Soma and Agni as the latter ushered his charge into a bar, and we peeked through the windows as they showed the ridiculous drawing to various attendees and drunkards, always getting a negative shake of the head or a puzzled, fuzzy (usually because they were hammered) look. "By all appearances, they really are just trying to find someone, hmm?" Lau asked as we peeked around a corner, and Ciel blew on his hands –safely mittened– to warm them. "Brr, its cold." he muttered as he rubbed his hands rapidly together, then looked up at Soma and Agni as they entered another bar. "In order to obtain information about someone in England, the first stop should always be the local pubs and clubs. They aren't doing anything out of the ordinary."

I filed that information away for later usage. "If he actually expects to find anything with that so-called "drawing", he's dumber than he looks." I said under my breath, and I heard Lau snort quietly from behind me. Ciel shushed us both, and we all ducked back behind the building as Agni and Soma walked out of the pub. This slow game of cat-and-mouse continued as I began to resort to pinching myself to stay awake, the city clocks ringing eleven o'clock, and then midnight. We watched Soma stomp down the street, fuming, as Agni glided behind, before they rounded the corner and Sebastian flicked out his pocketwatch. "1 A.M. They will be returning to the house shortly." he commented as I yawned and the bells began to toll again. "Let us head back as well." he added, then whistled sharply as I jumped, seeing a large carriage rattling towards us. Sebastian handed Ciel in and left me and Lau to ourselves, muttering something to the driver as I heard a jingle of coins, before he joined us in what I realized was simply an old-fashioned cab. It began to rattle back in the direction of the townhouse as I slumped against the side of the carriage and tried to get some shut-eye.

 _***Time Skip***_

I groaned and sipped the tea _someone_ had prepared –when I was awake at night and not running on adrenaline, my consciousness regressed back to the Stone Age– as I stared blankly out the window. It was roughly 2 in the morning and it had begun to snow again, which was very nice and picturesque, but I was running on autopilot and waiting impatiently (and sleepily) for the rest of the plot to progress. _Stupid midnight calls._ I thought as I knocked the rest of the tea back and set the saucer down on the oak table, staring grumpily at the half opened windows. _Stupid winter. Stupid snow. Stupid cold. Stupid-_

"Young master."

"EEK!"

I tripped and fell backwards, staring at the window as Sebastian raised on eyebrow at me from his upside-down position in the eaves. I took several deep breathes, trying to calm my racing pulse as I pressed my folded hands against the bridge of my nose. _Forgot about that bit._ I thought shakily as I began to calculate how many years that surprise appearance knocked off of my lifespan and Lau moved away from his position by the bookcase. Sebastian's eyes moved to Ciel. "Young master, he is on the move." he repeated to the earl, who yawned and got up from the couch. "So sleepy…" he murmured, then shook himself and straightened his suit "All right-"

"Wait!"

We all turned to see Soma standing in the doorway to the drawing room. "You!" Ciel snapped in surprise, and I quickly got up from the floor and dusted off my borrowed dress. "Take me with you as well." Soma demanded, folding his arms. "I was aware that Agni would sometimes go out after I'd gone to bed. I want to know…what he's up to." he said, and Ciel and Sebastian glanced at each other. I grabbed a handful of snow from the window ledge and pressed it against the back of my neck to wake myself up, shivering and straightening up at the intense cold. I then tossed the slowly melting ball of snow back outside and grabbed my winter coat, shrugging it back on and following behind the others as they headed for the exit.

 _***Time Skip***_

We all snuck around the corner as Agni entered the gates of a large mansion. "He went into this building." Lau commented as he looked up at the large house. Ciel started. "If memory serves, this is…" he muttered, before trailing off and smacking his mittened hand over his face. "I see. Now I'm starting to get the picture." he said in exasperation, and Soma glanced at him. "What do you mean? Whose house is this?" he asked demandingly, and Lau clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, now, Your Highness, patience, patience." he said as he slipped into his ominous persona again, waggling his fingers spookily. "It will be clear once you've gone inside. And then you will be forced to face the truth, whether you like it or not. You…" He placed a hand on his chest. "…and I both, 'kay?" he asked as he smiled cheerily, and Ciel deadpanned from beside me. "By the " _And I_ ", I take it you haven't a clue either?" he grumped, and Lau beamed. "Yes! Who lives here?" he asked obliviously, and I smacked my forehead from behind him.

"This residence belongs to Harold West Jeb, who runs an extensive import business. I had the distinct displeasure of meeting him once…He's an unsavory sort who loves all kind of titles." Ciel said dispassionately, and I scowled. "A social climber, huh?" I muttered in disgust, then jumped as Soma leaned over my shoulder. I hadn't thought I'd said it loud enough for anyone to hear me. "A social climber? What is that?" he asked curiously, and I rubbed my hands together as I blew on them, trying to warm my fingers up. "Somebody of moderate or low birth who is disgustingly obsessed with trying to buy, scheme, or marry their way into the highest societal class possible." I explained absently. I'd only heard about them in period Victorian novels, but it stood to reason that they'd exist in real life too. From what I remembered of West's character, he was a textbook example. "So this guy ships stuff?" I asked Ciel, trying to get us back on track.

"Imports, him? We're in the same business, then." Lau commented, and Soma rubbed his chin. "Why would Agni go to an importer's house?" he asked meditatively, and Ciel made a face. "He mainly imports spice and tea leaves from India, and runs "Harold Trading", a general store, and the "Harold West", a Hindustani coffeehouse." he said dismissively, and Sebastian "hmm"ed thoughtfully. "While investigating Miss Mina, I happened across Mister West's name in some of the documents I was reviewing. Per those papers, Bengal is indeed the main source of his wares, and he has suffered collateral damage from the hanging incidents, but…it seems the company representative himself, Mister West, _just happened_ to be away at the time of the incidents and escaped being hung." he said significantly, and Ciel sighed. "There's nothing for it…let's go take a look." he said grudgingly, and Sebastian turned around. "As you wish, sir."

He grabbed Ciel around the waist and suddenly launched over the wall, and I grinned as I heard Ciel's muffled shriek of "YOU IDIOT!" on the other side of the wall. Lau turned to me with a helpful smile, and I gave him a grateful nod as I stepped into the cup his interlocked hands made and let him boost me up. I gripped the wall with my knees and turned to grab Soma's hand, pulling him up beside me as Lau expertly hopped up onto the wall next to Soma like the stupid martial-arts knowing jerk he was. I gulped as I saw several growling, fierce-looking guard dogs slink across the snow in front of Ciel and Sebastian, and Soma jerked from beside me. "CIEL!" he called before I could stop him, but suddenly the dogs whimpered and began to back away from the duo, tails between their legs. I shivered as the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and not because of the cold. "Oh? The hounds are falling back?" Soma murmured in shock from beside me, and I swallowed again.

 _Though I suppose the dogs are right to be scared of a demon, I'm just glad he's on our –well, Ciel's– side._

 _ **10.18 PM, USA Central Time**_


	10. That Butler, Social Climber

**_"As much drawing skill as Alois?" Please explain_** _Ariaprincess **…I haven't seen the second season. And** Singular Poisonous Ashes **, why haven't you logged in as yourself in a while? You've been "Guest" for the past few rounds, I don't understand iiiit…This is also my last post of 2015. So much has happened the past year. I got my first job and that's really all I can remember. I'm sure some important stuff happened on Fanfiction too. But I honestly can't remember anything. I haven't been in school for like a week and the lack of structure, order, and discipline is slowly melting my brain cells into a puddled mass of icky grey goo. Hey look, a butterfly.**_

 ** _December 31, 2015_**

 _Arya's POV:_

I grunted as I grabbed Soma's arm and helped him scrabble the rest of the way over the edge of the wall, before we both jumped down next to Ciel and Sebastian. "Hohhh there Earl!" Lau called from the front door, and Soma and Ciel shivered as they saw the two men sprawled across the doorstep with elongated needles jabbed into their necks. Lau was smiling cheerfully as he twirled a ring of keys around yet another long needle. "Over here, over here!" he said happily, and Soma "eep"ed. Ciel stared at the Chinaman blankly. "You…" he began in disgust, and Lau grinned as he waved a finger at the Earl. "Nooo, what do you take me for? I didn't kill them. I simply put them to sleep! I think it's a four-thousand-year-old method from Ancient China." he admitted, and Ciel sighed. "Nevermind. Let's stop dallying and find him already." he said impatiently, and I nudged one of the guards with my toe as we passed by. He didn't move. "Dude, can you teach me that?" I asked Lau softly, and he beamed innocently. "Not unless you know acupuncture."

 _Damnit._

"There do not seem to be any guards inside." Sebastian murmured as we entered the foyer, looking towards the stairs. "I can hear voices coming from the second floor. What say we go upstairs and have a look?" he asked, and Ciel nodded. We all snuck up the large, elegant staircase, with Sebastian taking point and Ciel and Lau walking behind him, Soma and myself bringing up the rear. Every candle and lamp in the house was off, which made the rectangular square of light beaming from a largely appointed doorway all the more obvious. We all crowded around the half-opened doorway, listening in. "You've done a splendid job. Don't look so tormented, old chap." a smarmy voice said from inside. "Why not have a cigar and relax?"

We all peered inside, seeing a man with dirty blonde hair combed over his head and dressed in a snappy suit –Harold West– offer a cigar to Agni, who was sitting stiffly on the couch across from him. "This is a first-class Havana cigar I bought from James Fox, the Royal Warrant holder." he said proudly, but Agni remained silent. West withdrew the cigar and smirked. "Well, in any case, the plan has been executed to perfection so far. Everything will be resolved in a week's time." he continued, grabbing Agni's wrist and revealing his bandaged right hand. I subconsciously smoothed my fingers over the thin cotton wrappings on my own fingers. "As long as I have this "Right Hand of God", my scheme will be realized!"

We all ducked behind the edge of the door as West's eyes traveled the room. "Three long years I've waited. I'll see myself victorious in this, no matter what!" he declared, and we peeked back around the corner as Agni shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "If I can carry out my mission as promised, Mina wi-" he began, and I belatedly remembered what happened in this scene and tried to grab the Indian prince, but I was too late. "MINA!" Soma yelled as he burst into the room, making Agni and West start. "You bloody f–!" Ciel started, his voice suddenly muffled by Sebastian clapping a hand over his mouth. "He knows the young master and I. Let us see how things proceed before rushing in." the butler murmured, and I winced as Soma grabbed Agni by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Soma might've been a bit of an idiot throughout the series, but at least he was a well-meaning idiot. "M-my prince-!" Agni stuttered, but Soma was in no mood to be pacified.

"What is the meaning of this, Agni!? Have you known where Mina is all along?!" he yelled, shaking his vassal as hard as he could. Given as he wasn't a particularly strong person, it wasn't very hard, but the anger was certainly there. West's slimy smile twitched slightly. "Ahh, so that's your master, Agni?" he asked in amusement, and Soma whirled around. "You…you're the swine that took Mina away!" he said angrily, then pointed to the businessman. "Agni! Knock him down!" he commanded as West leaned arrogantly against the couch. Soma hesitated, turning around, as Agni merely stood and shook in place, his eyes fixed on the ground. "Agni! What are you doing?!" he demanded, and West snorted contemptuously. "Agni. Throw His annoying Highness out of here." he said as he snapped his fingers at Soma, who reeled backwards as if physically struck. "Wha-?!" he stammered, as Agni shook harder.

"It seems a quarrel has ensued." Sebastian commented as he peered around the doorframe, and Lau cradled his face in his hands, humming quietly but cheerfully. "Though there's no mistaking West's involvement with the hangings based on their little chat…they no longer seem to be "Incidents of the Underworld"." Ciel sighed to himself, and Lau leaned closer to Ciel, putting his hand by his mouth to help his voice carry further. "And that means this is all outside the Earl's jurisdiction. As it has to do with polite society and all." he whispered back, and Ciel scowled. "Indeed…" he agreed, and Lau pouted. "But informing the Yard is a pain, so what do you say we beat them silly and go home?" he asked cheerfully, and Ciel clicked his tongue. "That doesn't sound half bad, but I have another idea. Let's leave West at large for a while longer. Tonight, we'll be leaving here with that thick-headed prince." he said firmly.

Lau cocked his head. "But West knows what you two look like, right?" he whispered, and Ciel scowled to himself. "That he does." he admitted, then looked at me grudgingly. "You're a magician; do you have anything that might help?" he asked reluctantly, and I pulled my journal out from my pocket and opened it from the back, starting to page through the section I had written my magic formulas in. "I can cast a transparent but human-impenetrable wall, transport inanimate items from one spot to another, and lift very small objects for about three seconds." I whispered sheepishly, and Ciel frowned. "That's not helpful." he hissed back, and I shrugged helplessly. I'd written down what I'd written down –it wasn't my fault most of what England taught me was theory and mechanics.

Sebastian waved us both down with a subtle smile. "Please let me handle it." he said confidently, and I watched as he walked over to the mounted deer's head on the wall. I rolled my eyes and peeked back around the doorframe as the argument in the drawing room began to reach its climax. Agni raised his bandaged hand to smack Soma, and I jumped as I felt something whoosh past me and Ciel. Sebastian blocked Agni's blow, Soma staggering away from the masked butler. Sebastian turned, revealing the deer's head he had used as a mask. "Wh-wh-who the hell is thiiiiiis?!" West shouted in surprise, and Sebastian turned to face him as he "eep"ed and jumped away. "I, nought but a humble deer, have come for this prince." Sebastian said with a deep bow, and I smacked my forehead as Lau looked up at the place where the deer's head had formerly been nailed. "Putting on that mounted deer's head and going in was a stroke of brilliance, master butler!" he said happily, and Ciel sweatdropped.

"He did hide his face, but… _are we talking about the same idea here_?" he said in exasperation, and I shushed him as West pointed a trembling finger at Sebastian. "Fo-forget the prince, this might be one of the enemy's spies! Agni!" he shouted. "Nothing of the sort. I am merely a humble deer-" Sebastian tried, but West cut him off. "Kill him!" he ordered, and Agni whipped around. "Kill–! I cannot do such a-" he said in shock, but West shouted over him. "Shut up! Do you want me to renege on that promise! I'm ordering you! DO IT!" he roared, and Agni stared helplessly at him as his fists began to shake. "I…I…" he gasped, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. I shivered as I saw the tears turn to blood, and Agni collapsed to his knees. "My God…my master…is but one and no other…and for he alone would I use my right hand…so I had vowed." he whispered, and I gulped as I saw him grit his teeth. "Now I shall commit a sin by betraying that god…"

"Agni, no!" Soma shouted from beside Sebastian. "PLEASE FORGIVE ME!" Agni roared, ripping the bandages apart on his hand. Sebastian quickly slung Soma over his shoulder and dodged Agni's wild blow as it smashed soma kind of table in half. I grinned as West shrieked. "Gyaah! Not the chest I bought at General Tradiiiing!" he squealed in dismay, and Sebastian dashed around the room at a speed too fast to follow and Agni followed right behind, the other items in the room being steadily demolished by missed or errant blows. "STOPPP! THAT'S A ONE-OF-A-KIND GALLE LAMP FROM THOMAS GOODE! My Royal Worchester tableware! My Lock & Co. hat! My limited edition Meissen cup! My special-ordered-!" My somewhat sadistic listening to West's cries of horror was interrupted as Lau picked Ciel up off the ground. "This is all starting to look a mite dangerous. We should take our leave now, Earl." he said as Ciel let out a yelp of surprise, then squirmed around to yell to Sebastian as we set off down the hall. "Hey! People will start taking note of this commotion! Once you've grabbed the prince, you'd better make a run for it too."

I followed Lau as we ran through the house, avoiding several maids and manservants who tried to stop us. They almost caught up to us at one point, but I quickly chanted under my breath as a glowing yellow wall sprung into existence behind us. I grinned as I heard several cries of shock, and Lau looked over his shoulder as Ciel's remaining eye grew huge. "I say, isn't it handy to have a magician around when you're escaping from somewhere." Lau said appreciatively, and Ciel's eye narrowed. "Take that down. We don't want to tip our hand to West." he snapped irritably, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds, feeling my fingertips tingle as the glowing wall faded out at the edge of my senses. "There. Happy?" I asked as Lau booted the door open and we ran out into the open street. "Blissfully." Ciel muttered, punching Lau in the back to make him drop the earl as we skidded around a corner and saw Sebastian and Soma.

 _***Time Skip***_

"Amazing, wasn't he? That fellow from before." Lau commented, and I yawned hugely, sipping at the tea Sebastian had made. It was at least three or four in the morning, and I'd been awake since eight in the morning yesterday. "It was beyond anything that could be defined as human." I nudged Soma, who was sulkily sitting in one of the other armchairs, offering him some of the tea as he shook his head and declined. "He was in the state of Samadhi. No one can lay a hand on him when he gets like that. " he said, looking depressed, and Ciel paused, lowering his teacup. "Samadhi?" he asked, and Sebastian, standing behind his master, tucked the tea tray under his shoulder. "It is to do with religion, yes? A kind of trance state. Human beings are rare creatures that can produce tremendous power derived from intense belief that gives way to a kind of blind faith." he explained.

"The Norse Vikings of yore became Berserkers in the name of their war god, Odin. The paladins of the Crusades fought in the name of God by invading foreign lands time and time again. He too numbers among them. Because of his absolute devotion to his "god" and "master" Prince Soma, he can invoke a power that is beyond human. " he continued, placing a hand on his chest. _Kinda like Alexander Anderson, from Hellsing._ I thought in surprise, taking another long sip of the tea.

"It is a power that _our like_ cannot boast…that which is born of belief in and love for another…a power known as faith." he finished, and I rolled the tea around in my mouth before swallowing, feeling the warm, sweetened liquid slip down my throat. "Then why…did he betray me?" Soma mumbled, then abruptly stood and swept all of the fine china off the table with a crash. "WHY DID HE WILLFULLY ABANDON ME?!" Ciel, Lau, and I jerked away from the table as the boiling hot tea splattered all over the carpet. "Why you-!" Ciel hissed, but Soma was too caught up in his tantrum. "WHY?! WHY DOES EVERYONE LEAVE MY SIDE!? WHY?! HOW COME!?" he wailed, then spun and ran out of the room. Sebastian looked at the rest of us. "Are you three all right?" he asked, and Lau nodded as I looked mournfully at the wet splotch on the floor, the only remnants of the tea. "We ducked, so we're fine." he said cheerfully, and Sebastian looked at the shattered china all over the floor with a slight frown. "Oh dear…there goes the Haviland tea set I sent away for because I thought it would be perfect for the young master…" he said quietly. "I do believe the unruly prince needs to be retaught his manners a touch."

He walked out of the room as I sent my mental apologies to Soma for not stopping the butler. But sometimes you needed to be cruel to be kind, and I liked the "somewhat naïve but nice" version of the prince over the "naïve and spoiled" character he started out as. He needed a little bit of harsh truth to snap some sense into him, no matter how much it might sting at first. I sighed and took another sip of the tea as Ciel copied the movement and Lau, who hadn't picked his cup up in time, merely sat there and smiled. "I say, that butler is taking quite a long time. I wonder what's keeping him?" the Chinaman said after about ten minutes, and Ciel sighed, putting down his teacup and getting to his feet. "You two stay here." he commanded, walking out of the room. I yawned and took another sip of the tea, trying to psyche myself up to stay awake.

"So, since you are a magician, can I hire you?"

I choked on my mouthful of tea and quickly swallowed, whipping my head around to stare at Lau. He was wearing a semi-innocent smile, and I swallowed for quite a different reason as his ominous air resurfaced. "Um…Hire me for what?" I asked cautiously, and Lau's smile widened. "For things. I've never seen a real magician before; you seem to be a very useful person to have around." he said evasively, resting his chin on his hand, and I stared at him for a few seconds. _No matter how oblivious the guy acts, Lau_ _ **is**_ _the head of an Asian crime syndicate._ I remembered as I anxiously licked my lips. _Not to mention an opium den._ "Um, I'll stick with Lord Phantomhive." I said after a few seconds, and Lau's innocent smile widened. "Aww, that's too bad." he said cheerfully, and I let out a slow sigh of relief. "So, how old are you, anyway?" he asked conversationally as he stole my teacup and took a sip, and I glared at him. "Seventeen." I growled, and heard a gasp from the doorway.

"You are the same age as me!" Soma said, and I blinked twice. "What, really?" I asked in shock, and he nodded several times, his surprise turning to acceptance. "You seem much older." he commented as he sat down in the armchair across from me, and Ciel sat down at his place as well. Lau smiled as Sebastian set out some new teacups for us, and I rubbed the bruise-colored circles I _knew_ were developing under my eyes as I took mine. "Now then. Let us continue our little chat from before His Highness's interruption." Lau said as he picked up the fresh cup, and Ciel nodded. "First, West must have put Agni up to the aforementioned hanging incidents. With his physical abilities, it would be easy for him to do everything alone. West mentioned a "three year plan", that "the successful execution of that pla will take place in one week", and that "Agni's right hand is absolutely necessary". That was all. The most important factor here is the "one week later" deadline." Ciel said as he picked up his cup, and I snickered as Soma flinched away from Sebastian as the butler set the cup and saucer down in front of him.

"If West is using Agni's "Right Hand of God", perhaps they plan to raid a major event?" Lau suggested. "Well, with it being winter now, the large-scale functions have all but ended. And the Queen's Golden Jubilee was held just last year." he added as he took a sip of the tea, and Ciel looked at his butler. "Sebastian. What events will be held in London one week from now?" he asked, and Sebastian put a hand to his chin. "One week from now? The young master has received invitations to a coir concert sponsored by Saint Sophia Academy at Westminster Abby, Wagner at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, an exhibition of Indian Culture and its prosperity within the Empire at the Crystal Palace, an exhibition of world currencies at the British Museum-"

"India?" Ciel interrupted in surprise, and Sebastian gave him a look. "Young master, a gentleman must read all correspondence addressed to him, _no matter what the contents_." he said righteously, and Ciel slouched irritably in his chair. "Shut up and just give me the details." he growled, and Sebastian sighed. "The exhibition of Indian Culture and its prosperity within the Empire" will be held at the Crystal palace next week. The main exhibits will feature Great Britain's achievements and industry in India. A curry fair will be held as part of the programme. The young master had received an invitation to be a special judge at that fair. The fair will have several companies competing with their curries. Rumor has it that Her Majesty, who is known for her love of curry, will come visit the fair. Should I see which individuals are hosting their own parties as well?" Sebastian asked, and Ciel scowled to himself. "India..curry…that's _quite_ enough." he growled, obviously fed up, and Lau chuckled.

"It seems you've caught on, my lord." he said in amusement, and Ciel winced. "Yes. Three years. A fair. And as West covets brands and titles, he would only think of one thing. I can't believe how silly this case has turned out to be. I'm so unnerved, I don't know what to say…" he muttered as Soma looked at me cluelessly and I shrugged with equal confusion. "Hey, wait! I don't understand what's going on. Explain it to me!" Soma yelled at Ciel and Lau, who looked at us. "Quiet down, Your Highness. You will receive your explanation in due time…from Lord Earl!" he said happily, and Ciel grew a tick mark. "Once again, you were only pretending to know!" he barked, then sighed. "The main dish served at West's Hindustani coffeehouse is curry. In other words, West is attempting to obtain a "Royal Warrant" with his curry." he explained as a little lightbulb popped up above Lau's head. "Ah, now I understand!" he said, and Soma blinked at them both. "A royal warrant? What is that?" he asked, still confused, and Lau snapped his fingers. "Ah, right! Your Highness wouldn't know of it."

"England has a curious system." Ciel explained with a sigh. "Members of the royal family can grant a seal of "approval" to merchants and artisans of whom they are fond. That seal is known as the "Royal Warrant". Stores that hold the Royal Warrant can display that seal on their signs; a Royal Warrant is equivalent to a quality assurance. When a brand receives a warrant, its sales are guaranteed to increase. We were considering applying for a Royal Warrant for our confectionery and toy brand. Some stores have tripled their sales, as Queen Victoria sets the trends for everything from fashion to food." Ciel sighed in exasperation. "The rage for curry has slowed down, so West must want the title, whatever the cost."

Soma frowned in confusion. "I understand that West wants the so-called "Royal Warrant". But what does that have to do with the hanging incidents?" he asked, and Sebastian cleared his throat. "There are two conditions for obtaining a Royal Warrant. The first is to "have the products quality recognized at a fair". And the second is "gratuitous service to the royal family for three years". For three years, West has been servicing the royal family with his imports for free. He then caused those incidents to destroy his rivals who were participating in the fair next week. " he explained, and Ciel nodded. "Military personnel were attacked as well, so it looked as if the culprits were Indians who held a grudge against England. West is probably using Mina to force Agni to participate in this silly plan…and Agni is doing it for the sake of his own god."

Soma started as Sebastian handed Ciel a piece of paper. "The letters left behind at the crime scene held another important clue besides camouflage. Right here." Ciel said, pointing to the drawn-out tongue at the bottom of the note. "Lord Randall was ranting that the mark was an insult against England, but its real meaning is something else entirely." He turned in his chair and pointed. "You pray to that, no?" he said as Soma gasped softly, and I turned to look at the statue of Kali that had for some reason been left in the drawing room. "Your god is the goddess Kali, with her tongue lolling out. Agni drew this. And who is Agni's "god"?" Ciel asked. "He did it all for you. So both his prayers and his apology were drawn into this mark." he added as he handed the paper to Soma, who clutched it tearfully. "Mister Agni worships and lives for you even after he has left your side. You have been blessed with a wonderful butler." Sebastian said with as much approval as I had ever heard from him, and Soma whimpered under his breath. "Agni…"

"Then all's well that ends well, eh? What a heartwarming story." Lau said happily, clapping his hands. "Well, let's wash our hands of this affair. How about we have the Yard handle the rest?" he asked with equal cheer, and Soma bolted upright. "Wait! Then what will become of Agni…and Mina!?" he yelped, and Lau shrugged. "Who knows?" he said, and Ciel yawned. "We now know that this incident doesn't concern our side, the underworld. And we're not running a charity." he said heartlessly, and Soma gritted his teeth, clenching his hand around the paper. "I understand…this is indeed my problem. I will think about what I can do to solve it on my own." he said with determination, and Ciel smirked and cracked his knuckles. "Good attitude. Then I'll get on with my work." he said evilly. "I was summoned to London on this worthless errand. Don't I deserve some reward for my troubles? A Royal Warrant is granted after three years of gratuitous service and one's showing at a fair. The fair will be held in one week. And fortunately for us, the top competition will be unable to participate. Therefore, if our Funtom cooperation participates and wins against West, the Royal Warrant will be ours."

Soma stared wordlessly at Ciel as I did the same, marveling at his sheer audacity. "I was considering moving into the food business after we'd obtained a warrant for our confectionary and toys. If we were to get a warrant at the curry fair, it would be the talk of the town." Ciel continued proudly, and Lau hmmed. "Indeed. It'll be quite the trophy to mark the beginning of Funtom's culinary line." he said in amusement, and Soma finally cut in. "But you only have one week to set up a culinary department. Will you be able to prepare specialists in curry, cooking equipment, stores, and such in time?" he asked worriedly, and Ciel took a sip of his tea. "We won't be needing any of that. Right, _Sebastian_?" he chuckled, and the demon smiled and put a hand over the place where his heart would be. "As butler to the Phantomhive family, it goes without saying that I can manage something like this. The Royal Warrant will b-"

"Impossible!"

"Nn?" Sebastian blinked as we all stared at Soma. "There is no way you can win against West in a curry match!" Soma declared, and Ciel frowned. "Why not?" he asked skeptically, and Soma fidgeted. "He has Agni, who in turn has the Right Hand of God." he said, and Ciel snorted. "The destructive power of the "Right Hand of God" is indeed extraordinary, but we're not competing in a combat sport. This is a curry competition." he said dismissively, and Soma slammed his hand down on the table. "That's it right there! It _isn't_ a combat sport like fencing. It's a curry match!" he repeated, and Sebastian blinked, slowly. "Pardon me…I do not quite follow." he said after a few seconds, and Soma's eyes narrowed. "You don't know Agni's true power. You do not know real curry." he said firmly. "The quality of real curry is determined by the spices in it. One must choose from hundreds of spices. The amount of each spice one uses determines the curry's taste, heat, and fragrance…the spices affect everything. One has an infinite array of choices. Making the best curry is like finding one truth out of all the truths of the universe. But Agni's right hand can do that. With only his fingertips, he selects the best spices from an innumerable selection and mixes in the optimal amounts…to create curry that is nothing short of a miracle. His power to imagine and create a world from nothing is indeed within the realm of godliness. That is why Agni, with his "Right Hand of God", is called Kali's Right Hand! I've never had curry that was better than Agni's. That's why I told him to offer me his right hand forever."

"So the "Right Hand of God"…" Ciel began as Lau finished for him. "-refers not to godly strength, but to godly curry-making skills?" the Chinaman asked skeptically, and Ciel frowned. "There you have it. Sebastian?" he asked, and the butler smiled grimly. "Well, well…I seem to have found myself up against a formidable adversary."

 _ **8.34 PM, USA Central Time**_


	11. That Butler, Curry Curtailed

_**Happy 2016 everybody~! And thanks for correcting my/your mistake,**_ _Ariaprincess_ _ **. (Whoever ya wanan lay blame on. Doesn't matter to me.) Um, right, so, and anyways. (Spoken in the fashion of Kohta Hirano). I think I've finally gotten into the appropriate frame of mind for a Victorian-era writing style, so here's to hoping I can keep it going long enough for the interesting things to start happening. The reference Arya makes about herself being poisoned is an allusion to when Oliver (the evil cannibal (who is also a sorcerer/magician) that imprisoned her for several months and was the villain of the prequel to this story) spontaneously decided to be a bastard and dosed her food. And drink. (It was never specified which.) Anyway, Arya's been poisoned before. And been in a car crash. And beaten half to death on multiple occasions. And stabbed. She hasn't been shot yet, but to be honest, 's probably only a matter of time.**_

 _ **January 7, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

 __I had taken the precaution of completely closing my curtains before I went to bed last night –or rather, earlier this morning– and was thusly awoken not by a bright stream of sunlight stabbing into my eyes, but by Mey-rin ripping them open with a cheerful "Rise and shine, Miss Arya!"

I flinched and yanked the thick cotton blankets up over my head, groaning. I didn't want to check my watch, or any of the other clocks, because right now I just wanted to reject life in general. "Mey-rin, I went to sleep at like Nothing o'clock in the morning. I dunno what time it is right now and I don't _want_ to know. Please tell me I don't have to get up. I beg of you." I whimpered through the quilted fabric, and I felt her tug at one end. "I'm afraid you do, miss. Some tea will wake you right up, yes it will." she said encouragingly, and I suppressed the temporary, slightly murderous urge to throw her out of a window. "Right…" I groaned, slowly pulling the blankets down from around my ears. Mey-rin's cheerful face greeted my blurry eyes, and she held up a package. "You clothes have arrived from the tailor, yes they have."

Curiosity finally gave me enough motivation to sluggishly roll out of bed and start getting ready for the day, watching Mey-rin as she scampered out of the room, presumably to get the aforementioned tea she offered me. I took the morning pitcher of water on my nightstand, leaned out of the window, and dumped it over my head, gasping as the water quickly grew icy in the freezing air of early winter. I rapidly shook my head, flinging water droplets everywhere, before I leaned back inside, setting the pitcher back down and grabbing the washcloth next to it, vigorously toweling my hair dry. The icy shock had helped me wake up slightly, and I blinked at the large series of packages stacked neatly by the large oak chest at the foot of my bed. There was about ten or eleven of them, and they were all wrapped in brown paper. One had a note attached to the front, and I pulled it off curiously.

 _Miss Aryana Thompson;_

 _This is your wardrobe as ordered and paid for by Funtom Co. I labeled them all separately so you don't have to worry about our form of dress code; you seemed to struggle a bit with that. I also noticed your penchant for wearing those intriguing bloomers and corset, so I designed your wardrobe with that in mind._

I turned red, but, I mean, I guess it was her job. I certainly knew that modern-day undergarments would seem exceedingly odd to the people of Victorian England.

 _Please use it to your best advantage! Now you should be able to return that dress you borrowed to the maid, and please feel free to give me a call whenever you're in London._

 _Cheerio~_

 _Nina Hopkins_

I stared at the paper with a blank face for a few seconds, then shrugged and started inspecting the packages. Most of them were labeled "day-to-day" and "business", but there was one, slightly heavier, package that said "formal" and another, labeled "horseback riding". I found the package that contained my magic cloak, and hurriedly opened it up, taking the black fabric and snapping it out, then swinging it over my shoulders and tying it off. I didn't have a mirror, but as I paced around the room and swished the cloak a couple of times, it seemed to fit wonderfully. I'd never had clothing that was tailored specifically to myself, and I had to say, I was liking it so far. I pulled the hood up over my head, and it seemed to fit just as well as the rest of the costume. I undid the strap and pulled the cloak off with a pleased smile, stuffing it into my apocalypse bag and turning to the other packages. I eventually selected one of the "business" packages, opening it up to reveal a dark navy blue-ish dress, holding it out in front of me as I made an uncertain face. I wasn't used to dresses with so much ruffles, but…

 _Well, when in Rome._

I shucked my combat pajamas and pulled the dress on, blinking as I slowly twisted and turned. The fabric was surprisingly comfortable, and now that it was on me…I felt kinda pretty. I subconsciously brushed a hand down the front, enjoying the feel of the fabric. I could literally count on one hand the amount of females, including the ones I'd met here, that I'd spent any amount of time within the last six or seven months. All that testosterone kinda rubbed off; I hadn't spent any time on feeling pretty in _ages_. Still, no time like the present. I spun in place a few times and then giggled self-consciously.

 _Guess I'll have to work in my exercises before I get dressed for the day._

"Ah! That looks lovely on you, yes it does!" Mey-rin chimed in from the doorway, and I jumped, then turned around. "Um, if you say so. Here's your uniform back." I said sheepishly, handing her my borrowed dress back as she traded it for a cup of tea. I took the mug of steaming liquid and downed half of it without thinking, then gasped and nearly choked as the sweet-tasting drink scorched my tongue and burned its way down my throat. Mey-rin paused, looking concerned, and I waved her away, taking in a few more breathes before reminding myself to always check any drink someone gave me before swallowing it.

 _Not a bad policy to have, actually. I mean, I've already been poisoned with arsenic once._

I followed my memory and wandered back to the dining room, doing a quiet fist pump and suppressed cheer of " _yes_!" when I heard and saw the others already there. The townhouse was far larger than any other building I had ever lived in, or even visited as a living space. Britain's house had been a manor in its own right, but it was rather –small. Not only small, but it was mostly gardens, offices, and a library; it didn't feel like a living place so much as a public building.

Ciel looked up and then down as I entered; apparently, although I was blatantly suspicious to him, I was also apparently rather nonthreatening. Soma gave me a preoccupied but friendly nod, and Lau seemed as inscrutable as ever. I sat down at what I assumed to be my designated spot, taking the tea I was offered and tasting it hesitantly, then swallowing once I was convinced I wouldn't scald my tongue –again. I watched Sebastian offer Soma some curry, which the prince tested cautiously.

"YUCK!"

The other three men turned towards Soma as he made a disgusted face. "Was it not to your taste?" Sebastian asked neutrally, and Soma flinched. "Gyah! I-it's not that….it's just very different from the curry that I always eat in India, so, well…and this is good in its own way…um…" he stammered, slowly coming to a halt. Sebastian smirked slightly, understanding Soma's worry. "It is fine. Please continue." he said with a slight bow as Soma let out a sigh of relief and looked back down at the curry. "First, the flavor is weak, and it has no aroma. Not to mention it's gritty, so the texture is rough on the tongue. This doesn't count as curry." he said firmly, and Sebastian put a hand to his chin. "How odd. Even after I used the best curry powder available…" he said to himself, and Soma blinked. "Curry powder? What is that?" he asked in surprise, and I shrugged as I gulped down a mouthful of eggs.

"Curry, which Anglo-Indians have brought back from their homeland, has taken firm root in British cuisine. But as the blending of spices is difficult for amateurs, spices are ground and blended together, then sold as prepackaged curry power." Sebastian explained absently, and Soma frowned and shook his head. "I've never seen anything like that in India, and Agni didn't use it either. At least, as far as I know…" he admitted, then sighed. "Yes, spices determine the color and heat of curry, but what is most important is their flavor. When they aren't freshly ground, their aroma evaporates. At my palace, I have _masalchi_ dedicated to that task alone." Soma explained firmly, and I looked at him curiously. "What's a masal-chi?"" I asked, and he blinked at me. "A kitchen helper. They usually do all the dirty work." he said, and I "ah"ed and returned to eating my breakfast.

"So in other words, using something like curry powder, in which the spices have been ground up prior to being packaged and sold, is out of the question." Sebastian commented, returning to the conversation, and Soma nodded several times. "Yes. And depending on what he put into it, the soup of Agni's curry would look and taste different. I think he chose and blended the spices to complement the ingredients." he mused aloud, and Sebastian looked at his pocketwatch. "Then we must first track down fresh spices of the best quality. In that, West has the advantage, His company controls the distribution, so he can secure the best of the bunch for himself. he said disparagingly, and closed the watch. "I fear we are running short on time, unless we can find ourselves some traders…"

He trailed off, before we all looked expectantly at Lau, who just so happened to be the manager of a trading company.

 _ **8.28 PM, USA Central Time**_


	12. That Butler, Winning Hand

_**Hey everybody, I'm back again. Life seems to be going moderately well, and writing seems to be doin' okay too, so I really don't have that much to discuss. The weather is snowy, as befits Minnesota in January, and it's bitterly cold, which also befits Minnesota in January. Not missing huge amounts of homework, and I've tentatively given my AP European History teacher an introduction to Hetalia. Dunno if she'll actually look it up, but if she does, who knows? For those who haven't read the first fic for this story, Arya has a journal/diary in which she writes more or less every day, and takes magic-related notes in. (Thus why she had it earlier when they snuck into West's house.)**_

 _ **January 10, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

 _December 23, (1888) "Kuroshitsuji" Reckoning_

 _(Song) Quote for the Day:_

" _You hit a wall, you push through it." –(Quote)_

 _Hey hey, it's been forever since I wrote in here. Britain majorly messed up on the spell, so now I'm stuck in Black Butler for an unforeseen amount of time until I can learn the world-transport spell myself. Now that I've brought this up to date, back to the present. Ciel convinced Lau to go get spices for us, and he's been gone since yesterday, presumably getting them. I've been trying to puzzle through the Latin books in the library, with extremely limited success. I've been able to translate a few sentences, but they're mostly garbled; I'm definitely gonna need to learn the actual language instead of the words. My phone is still switched off and at the bottom of my bag, and I'm not gonna use it. I don't really remember any situations where I might_ _ **need**_ _to contact Britain in this anime, but if_ _ **he**_ _screwed up, I might too, and I should conserve the batteries just in case._

 _My parents must be getting seriously worried…I've been gone for almost six months, and the way things are going, those six months are going to turn into more than a year. Thank god my parents are so laidback; if they were some of my friends' parents, there'd be a manhunt going on._

 _Things I Need To Do by the Time I Leave "Kuroshitsuji":_

 _Learn Latin –very important. How the hell else am I gonna get home, since Britain can't send me the one they used in the first place?_

 _Learn Greek –See above._

 _Learn French –See above above._

 _Learn magical combat –I'm getting back in shape, but what with the Reapers and all that other nasty business, I'm gonna need to know more than a magic wall –which they could probably cut through with their Death Scythes– and a spell to nonliving transport objects from one place to another._

I capped my pen and closed the journal, stuffing it back inside my apocalypse bag and stretching. I was back in my combat pajamas, which consisted of an old black tank top and equally worn army fatigues. It was actually a surprisingly comfortable –and versatile _–_ outfit. I ran through my morning exercises, and silently lamented the lack of a running track as I looked sourly at the bandages wrapped around my fingertips. I could tell, merely by the aching feel I had become familiar with, that my nail beds had only halfway healed –if that. The amount of exercise I had been doing kept me in shape, but I hadn't done any running exercise in a while; and since it had kinda saved my life before, that made me nervous.

I got dressed in one of the lacy, ruffled dresses Miss Nina had made for me –this one dark brown and semi-businesslike– and went to the parlor. The earl should be answering his daily mail, and this was the perfect time to talk to him when nothing was going on. I knocked on –best not to just break in– the oak door and then pushed it open when Ciel called "Enter."

I walked in as the young earl looked up at me, slowly putting down his mail. I folded my arms in determination as I stood in the doorway. "I know that you're probably busy, but we have some things to discuss." I said firmly, somehow managing to sound both sheepish and determined, and he raised an eyebrow, but then nodded to the chair in front of his desk. I sat down, moving my skirts as necessity dictated. "I'll be quick about this." I began, trying to sound as formal as possible but also get this over with.

"I need to learn Latin, Greek, and French, preferably in that order. The books that you have here were only written in that language, and if I'm ever going to advance in my studies I'll need to learn them anyway." I said briskly, and Ciel frowned slightly, resting his chin on his folded hands. "Why French? For that matter, why Latin and Greek?" he asked skeptically, and I scratched my cheek sheepishly. "Magicians typically wrote in whatever educated or high-class language there was for the day, according to my teacher. That's why I need to learn French –I already know Italian. Magicians use many different runes and signs for their rituals, and Latin and Greek are one of the core baselines; without using them to complete the spell, I can't get home. Norsk and Slavic too are important too, but the alphabets I need to use aren't based on those." I explained, and he clicked his tongue thoughtfully.

"Alright. Why ask me?" he said after a few seconds, and I shrugged. "This is your townhouse, isn't it? If there's a "How To" book around here, you'd the one to ask." I said in a matter-of-fact tone, and Ciel smirked slightly, his eye unreadable. "And what if I don't have any of those books? What then?" he challenged, and I bit my lip. "Um, I guess I could pay for a tutor or something." I said after a few seconds, and he raised an incredulous eyebrow. "With what money? If I remember correctly, you fell out of the sky with only that bag of yours for company."

I glared at him. "If I'm one of your so-called branch managers, then you've got to pay me, bucko." I said witheringly, then sighed. "If not, then I guess I can take up street performing or somethin'. I've got enough magic to make a cool act." I hypothesized, and Ciel snorted and picked up a pen. "Not bloody likely." he muttered grudgingly, starting to write something out. "Fine. You will be contracted and paid under the official Funtom name. I will order tutors for French, Greek, and Latin for you, however, if they are not available, you will be taught by Sebastian."

I gulped, but he continued without noticing.

"Following that, you are to act and treat yourself as one of the Phantomhive estate's servants, albeit one more slightly more exalted in rank than that trio of idiots." he muttered, which I assumed to be a reference to Mey-rin, Bardroy, and Finny. "Should you be found insufficient for any task, I will have Sebastian correct you or pay a tutor to do it for him." he said ruthlessly, before flicking his pen away from the paper and looking at me coldly. "Let me make this clear. You are a member of this household only because I might find you useful. I am not in the habit of giving free handouts, and you will eventually be expected recompense for your stay here. Are we clear?"

I bit my lip in thought, then nodded a few times. "Yeah. That should work nicely."

I turned and looked over my shoulder as the door clicked open. Sebastian stood there with one hand on the knob. "Lau has returned with the spices." he said neutrally, and Ciel rose, grabbing his cane. I did as well, curious to see what the Chinaman had brought. I blinked as Sebastian opened the front doors and I saw piles of large burlap bags stacked all over the townhouse courtyard, with Finny and Bardroy already hauling them inside. I quickly rolled up the slightly scalloped hems of my sleeves and grabbed a bag of my own. "Amazing! I've seen all of these back home in my country!" Soma said in awe as he dipped up a handful of what smelled like sage from one of the open bags, and I moved to one side as Finny carted five of the gigantic bags inside. "Wooow! So all this stuff all goes into curry, huh?" he asked in excitement, and Bardroy staggered slightly as he lifted a bag of his own. "Don'tcha dare drop 'em now." he grunted to Finny, and I followed the duo with my own bag of spices.

We dropped them off in the kitchen and went back for more, and I watched as Sebastian picked up a handful of leaves and sniffed it appreciatively. "Each one has such a beguiling perfume. These spices are indeed the finest money can buy." he said in approval, and Lau smiled from his place by Ciel. "To have me collect this all in the span of a day…what a slavedriver you are, Lord Earl!" he said, sounding eerily upbeat despite his accusation. "Spices are outside our area of expertise, you know. Oh, the trouble I had to go through to get these…"

Ciel humphed as he supervised us. "I suppose even you have you have your uses in times like these." he admitted to Lau, who temporarily recovered his eerie smirk. "Well, having the Funtom Cooperation owe me one is hardly a bad thing." he said smugly as I dodged Finny's second large stack of bags, grunting a little under the weight of my own. _These things must weigh like thirty or forty pounds._ I thought to myself, struggling to lift it over my shoulder like Bardroy and Finny were doing. I was strong, but not quite that strong –yet.

 _But someday I will be._ _ **I will be**_ _._

"The without further delay, let's prepare a curry with these." Sebastian said, standing up from the spices and facing Soma. "Prince Soma. As only you know the taste of Mister Agni's godly curry, may I depend on your guidance as to flavor and so forth?" he asked respectfully, and Soma nodded. "That's fine with me, but…" Soma trailed off as he pointed to the spices. "Can you, an Englishman, manage to use all these spices?" he asked, then squeaked and hid behind Ciel at Sebastian's raised eyebrow. "No, I mean…I'm not making fun of you! Just…it must be hard since you're not used to them…" he babbled, and I shifted the bag over my shoulder and sympathetically patted him on the back with my free hand. He gave me a nervous smile in return, but hurriedly looked back to Sebastian as he spoke.

"I am much obliged by your concern. I think I shall need some time, but let us go about this steadily and see where it takes us." the demonic butler said, then placed a hand over his chest and smiled at us all. "I beg your patience until the curry is complete." he said angelically, and Soma made a small whining sound at the butler turned to his task. "Will he really be okay? I'm worried…" he said nervously, and Ciel yawned. "We'll have to wait and see. This calls for an afternoon nap…" he murmured sleepily, and I nudged Soma with my foot and pointed towards one of the sacks. "C'mon man, grab one and start hauling, or else we'll never get 'em inside." I said as I shifted the one on my shoulder, and Soma started and quickly grabbed a bag. "Right, okay!"

 _***Time Skip***_

"Ahhh…my shoulder hurts." I complained as we all marched back into the house, rubbing the offending muscles. Soma was right behind me, both in complaints and the literal sense. "I never knew manual labor could be so _hard_ …" he whined, swaying dramatically as he staggered up the stairs. I gave him a weary shrug as I switched to rubbing my other shoulder. "Eh, could be worse. I lived for five months with this complete martinet; I had to run like six miles every day." I said offhandedly, and jumped as Soma crashed into my back. "Too tiiiired…" he said mournfully, draping his arms over my shoulders as I nearly fell over backwards. "Carry me uuuppp…"

I sweatdropped. "Dude, we're like less than three feet from the door." I told him, and he muttered something in Hindi and clung to me tighter. "Come…on!" I growled as I took a step forward with some effort, his deadweight dragging me backwards. "I thought you were gonna be this big…independent…knowledgeable…prince! All by yourself!" I muttered in exasperation as I made it to the veranda, staggering towards the door, and Lau strode by me, whistling innocently with his hands behind his head. "Oy! A little help?!" I said indignantly, and he turned to us and smiled wider as I felt a sudden sense of foreboding. "Ah, isn't it nice to see you two bonding. Well, don't let me interrupt. Carry on!" he said cheerfully, waving innocently to the both of us before opening and closing the front door behind him.

 _Asshole_. I thought irritably, continuing to struggle across the tiles with Soma clinging to my back like a sloth. A very lazy and very whiny sloth. "Look, um, while Sebastian makes the curry, maybe you and me and Ciel could like play cards or something." I cajoled, trying to make him let go or something so I could at least move faster, and he mumbled something. I paused, and then looked over my shoulder to see his eyes closed.

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_

"WAKE UP!" I shouted, and he jolted, then opened his eyes and looked at me sleepily. "Whaaat?" he slurred as I finally made it into the foyer, and I pointed up the stairs. "Ciel wanted to play cards." I said, deadpan, and Soma instantly let go. "Wait for me!" he yelled as he pounded up the stairs, and I snorted and followed him, ignoring the tiny twinge of guilt. To my surprise, Ciel and Lau actually _did_ have some playing cards laid out, and Ciel dealt me and Soma in easily. We played Old Maid for a while, with Ciel more or less continually beating the rest of us senseless. Eventually me and Soma teamed up against Ciel, with Lau being the strange person he was and playing wildcard against us all.

There was a clink, and I jumped and turned around as Sebastian set several plates down. "My apologies for having kept you waiting." he said smoothly. "I present you with a curry of tender chicken stewed with spices and the savor of onions. I topped it off simply with some coriander and yogurt."

"Lau, I win with that card." Ciel said as he showed his hand, ignoring the butler, and Lau pouted as he threw down his cards. "Ehhh, I've been had." he said sadly, and Soma jumped up from his spot. "You're already done?! It's only been about two hours since you began!" he blurted in shock, and Sebastian assumed a sorrowful expression. "Yes. It unfortunately took me _a full two hours_. Please forgive me for forcing you to wait for so long." he said apologetically, and Soma sniffed. "And this aroma, its…almost like Agni's curry. How in the world…and in such a short time!?" he gasped, and Sebastian smirked slightly. "It was simple. I just sampled all of the spices." he said smugly, and Soma looked shocked. "Each and every one of them?! The whole lot!?" he squeaked, stunned, and Sebastian smiled.

"Yes. To return to the point at hand, I then blended the spices to match the fragrance of the curry Mister Agni cooked for breakfast the other day as closely as possible." he said as he laid out some silverware, and Soma blinked at the curry. "That was all it took to recreate the aroma?" he asked incredulously, and Sebastian tapped his nose. "My sense of smell is a _tad_ better than that of most humans." he said smugly, and Lau smiled happily. "Come come, Your Highness. " _It is better to get down to work than worry about it_ ", as they say. Why not have a bite first?" he asked as we all got up from the card table, and Soma looked anxiously at the curry. "Y-yes, all right." he said, and Lau beamed. "Time to eat~! Let's get started!" he said cheerfully, and picked up his spoon. "This aroma is very different from the last. The spices present an extraordinary bouquet." he commented clinically, taking a sniff.

We all took a bite, and I "hmmed" appreciatively as Lau's smile widened and Ciel raised an eyebrow. "My, this is delicious! The flavor of the freshly grounds spices whets your appetite, and the stewed chicken is so tender it practically melts in your mouth." Lau said appreciatively, and Sebastian looked at Soma. "Prince Soma, what do you think?" he asked, and Soma shook his head. "This won't do. The aroma is well and good, but the taste is a whole other story." he said sadly, and Sebastian put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Is that so…Then let us try a spice blend that has a similar aroma but will create a different taste." he mused quietly, and I looked at the curry thoughtfully. If I remembered correctly, Sebastian would be making a lot…

I pushed the plate away. "You know what, I think I'll save room for later."

 _ **6.32 PM, USA Central Time**_


	13. That Butler, Foreign Legion

_**Hey, 's me again. Almost done with the Curry Arc, and then I can finally get my original stuff on. *trails off into quiet cackling in the background* Ahem, notes on another fandom, I've finally posted the Hetalia panel that I was on at an anime convention last year. So, you know, if you want to see me sarcastically answer questions in a 2p!America cosplay, go check it out. There's a link to my YouTube profile on my profile here. If you don't want to go and find/watch it, then good for you. I'm not telling you how to live your life. I'm just saying that I'm really funny on that panel. And my younger sister is on the panel too (as 2p!England), so, you know, we had a family moment. A family moment in which we bond by pretending to be psycho-sociopaths sarcastically answering the questions of a yaoi-loving-fan-esque audience. Completely normal, right? Also, there is a cliché about Victorian women being unable to stand strong language. Is it true? Maybe, maybe not. Can and will I abuse it for the purpose of humor? Hell yes. Let it be also known that (almost) all of the French sentences at the bottom are things Eddie Izzard said (and made fun of) in his show "Dress to Kill".**_

 _ **January 29, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

After about ten or fifteen minutes –in which Ciel thoroughly trumped the rest of us at Old Man as well as old Maid– Sebastian returned and dragged Soma –who pulled me along with the excuse of "I need heeelp dealing with hiiim!" I was probably picked as the sacrificial victim since we were the same age and I had already (mistakenly) shown the poor sap some sympathy. We were both summarily deposited in front of a gigantic table in the kitchen, which was completely covered in soup pans filled with curry. Mey-rin had intercepted us on-course and Bardroy and Finny had already taken up residence against the sideboard. "Here, I have made a selection of curries that have a similar aroma but differ in flavor." Sebastian said, gesturing to them. "Please sample them and choose the one that tastes most like Mister Agni's curry."

"YOU MADE THEM ALL?! BY YOURSELF!?" Soma squeaked, and Sebastian smirked. "Yes. I am the butler of the Phantomhive family. Wherever would we be if I was unable to manage something as simple as this?" he asked smugly as he ladled some of the curry onto a dish. Soma looked queasily at the dozens upon dozens of soup pans. "B-but…I don't think I can eat all of this by myself." he muttered, and I nodded in agreement, rubbing the back of my head. The food Sebastian cooked was awesome, but I was only _just now_ getting back into fighting shape, and I didn't want to slow the process down any further. "Prince Soma. Your cooperation is necessary so that we may create a divine curry as soon as possible." Sebastian said firmly, and Soma made a face, then straightened. "V-very well! I shall eat as much curry as necessary if my eating curry is of use to you!" he said in determination, and I tied my hair behind my head in a ponytail in preparation. "We'll help too~!" the other servants said in unison, and we all got ready to taste test. "First, we have the curry from before with salt, turmeric, and coriander added." Sebastian said, and we all gulped some down.

"The taste is too heavy, and it's too spicy hot." Soma said in disgust, sticking his tongue out as Bardroy spat flames and ran for the sink, with me right behind. Finny and Mey-rin seemed to enjoy it, though. We ran through six or seven other unremarkable curries before Sebastian lay down one that I liked. "The next candidate boasts mildness thanks to the addition of coconut milk and yogurt." he rattled off, placing the plates down in front of us. "It tastes better, but the aroma isn't even close." Soma sighed disappointedly as I gobbled the dish down eagerly. We ran through another half-dozen dishes as Finny eagerly praised each one and Bardroy and I ran for the sink every time a spicy candidate surfaced. Mey-rin wobbled between the two, although her weakness seemed to be the heavier dishes.

"Next up, we have a spicy curry of cumin and cinnamon." Sebastian sighed after a good two hours, and I poked it with my fork queasily. Even though I had only eaten a few mouthfuls of each, there had been a _lot_ of curry choices. "Now I feel like it's not hot enough." Soma groaned as Mey-rin slumped down, completely unable to eat any more curry. Five minutes or so later, Sebastian returned with another dish. "My apologies for the wait. I have prepared this with red pepper and cloves to taste." he said, resigned, and I groaned as Bardroy wobbled and fell over, joining Mey-rin. "The flavor is too much…and heavy…" Soma groaned, burping slightly, and I clutched my stomach as I swirled the curry around on my plate with the fork. "Dude, I can't eat another bite." I whimpered, and Soma nodded, letting his head fall to the table with a _thud_. "I think I'm full up to the gills with curry…" he agreed, and Sebastian smiled from above us, sparkles drifting about him. "Come, the next curry awaits. I added cardamom and garlic." he said happily, and Soma twitched slightly.

"Th-this curry is different from all the others I've had today!" he gasped, whipping upright, as if galvanized by the very scent of the curry placed before him. I watched Soma as he took a bite, knowing that any reaction this dramatic predated something plot-changing in the manga, and watched as he grew very still, his eyes widening. He suddenly looked to the side as Sebastian leaned down to pour tea. "Ag-!" Soma started excitedly, then froze, his ecstatic expression dropping rapidly. Sebastian gave him a raised eyebrow. "Prince Soma?" he asked politely, and Soma returned his gaze to the plate in front of him. "This…this curry…it tastes very much like the curry I used to always eat…like Agni's curry!" Soma said, obviously making an effort to calm himself. The other servants all immediately whipped upright and crowded around Sebastian, cheering. "You did it Mister Sebastian!" Finny said excitedly as Bardroy slung his arm over the taller "man's" shoulder. "That's our butler for ya!" he crowed, and Mey-rin stared at him adoringly. "You're wonderful, y'are!" she whispered, and Sebastian, ignoring all of them, cupped his chin. "Still, to have to go to such great lengths to achieve the right blend of spices…" he muttered disparagingly.

"But it's still not quite right."

The servants all blinked at Soma as he bit his lip. "The taste, the aroma, the heat…are indeed the same as Agni's. However, something …something is still missing!" he hissed in frustration, and Sebastian clicked his tongue. "And that "something" would be?" he asked disparagingly, and Soma folded his arms. "Hrrrrn…to answer your question…how should I put it? Maybe that the savoriness and flavor of Agni's curry are more profound." he mused, then blinked. "Yes, that's it! The body! This curry lacks body!" he said excitedly, and Sebastian leaned over him. "Body? Is that it?" he asked, looming over the other male as Soma squeaked in slight fear. "Y-yes." He stammered, and Sebastian turned away, "hmm"ing under his breath. I jumped at an unexpected voice from behind us, turning to see Ciel leaning against the doorway. "In a spot of trouble, are we?" he asked somewhat sadistically, tapping his cane slightly against the floor. "How goes it?"

"Young master. The kitchen is no place for you…" Sebastian chided as Ciel walked over to Finny's plate and swiped a finger through the curry, licking it off approvingly. "Three days till the curry fair, him? Do the best you can and keep at your research." he told Sebastian smugly, then looked at me. "Thompson, if you would follow me, your tutor is waiting in the drawing room." he added, and I blinked and quickly got to my feet, following him towards the door. "Ah yes, that reminds me. I would like _gateau au chocolat_ for my afternoon snack. Bring it to me later." Ciel tossed over his shoulder to Sebastian, whose impassive expression didn't falter as he swept himself into a low bow. "Very good, sir." he murmured as the door shut behind us, and Ciel glanced at me as he swept through the hallway with Lau following behind him. "Thompson, your tutor is _waiting_." he stressed sardonically, nodding in the opposite direction before looking away.

Clearly, I was dismissed.

Nothing to be gained by being rude –and late– I quickly ran through my memory of the townhouse and picked up my long skirts –the novelty of wearing dresses still hadn't worn off, and I kinda liked wearing the ones Miss Nina had made for me– to run in the general direction of the drawing room. One definite downside about the dresses, even the practical business ones, was that I couldn't run in them unless I picked them up past a "decent" height to lengthen my stride –in other words, past my calves. God forbid men see anything but my toes, and _maybe_ my ankles if I was wearing something risqué.

 _Suppression does odd things to people._ I thought blandly as I quickly skipped up a flight of stairs and then stopped in the hallway to the drawing room, letting go of my skirts and brushing the front of my dress down neatly. No need for whoever was going to be teaching me to be getting the impression that I was a hooligan. _However true that may be by Victorian standards._ I thought, sweatdropping, as I opened the door and walked inside. A woman with her grey hair tied back in a bun so immaculate and tight it looked physically painful was sitting at the table, and she rose to greet me with a faint smile on her face. " _Bonjour, Mademoiselle_ Thompson. I am to be your instructor, _Madame_ Dufour." she said with a very tangible but easily understandable French accent, and gripped my hands warmly. I smiled and squeezed her hands back, letting her guide me over to the table as we both sat down. "So, how much French do you know?" she asked, and I scratched my cheek nervously, trying to remember everything I had ever heard France say in his own native language. "Um, _oui_ …which means yes…and _non_ , which means no…and, um, er…"

There was another phrase, one I had heard both Canada and France use on multiple occasions, usually stressful ones. "Something that might've been a curse." I finished uncertainly, and she raised a graying eyebrow at me. "Oh? And what would that be?" she asked in surprise, and I licked my lips. "Um, it sounded like _files de putte_ -" I began uncertainly, squeaking in surprise as my temporary abruptly toppled backwards. "Oh sh- um, _shoot_! Shoot! Are you okay?!" I yelped jumping to my feet and helping her sit up. " _Mon Dieu miséricordieux!_ Where did you learn that?!" she gasped as I helped her into her seat, and I sweatdropped again. "Um…well…some, uh, sailors?" I said uncertainly, the phrase "swearing like a sailor" popping into my head, which seemed rather appropriate for the circumstances.

Madame Dufour drew in a long breath. "Well! We will most certainly not be using those kinds of words in our lessons, Miss Thompson. Please sit down and we will begin." she said primly, opening up a briefcase that I hadn't seen from beneath the table and taking out a few pieces of paper. "Repeat after me, if you please. _La souris est sous la table._ "

"L-la soo-re es soole tab-le."

" _Le chat est sur la chaise._ "

"Le sha es so la cha."

" _Le singe est sur la branche_."

"Le sange es soo la br _au_ nch."

" _Ceci est une référence à un comédien_."

"S… _ceci_ …look, can I just have this word by word?"

" _Non._ "

" _Merde_." I muttered under my breath, only for her to give me a withering look.

" _What_ was that?"

"Nothing 'mam…"

 _ **8.37 PM, USA Central Time**_


	14. That Butler, Fair Fæ

_**About the whole thing with pronunciation, the German part is actually true. If you're a native English speaker, all you have to do to pronounce half of the German phonics is make a sort of "gggk" sound in the back of your throat. (I'm on my third year of learning German, so I would know.) As for the French accent, I have no idea if it's true or not, but the voice actor for France in Hetalia (and Sebastian in Black Butler) said that one time when he was very small and accidentally set his alarm clock to shout in French instead of English, when it went off his mom panicked and burst into his room because from down the hall it sounded like someone throwing up. It may or may not have been the clock, but hey, this is fiction. Who cares whether or not it's exactly true-to-form?**_

 _ **February 23, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

Say what you will of the English aristocracy, it got things _done_. Barely half a day had passed before Ciel had not only found me a teacher, he had hired her and brought her to the townhouse. Granted, we were in London, but still, it was eerily efficient. _Demonic butler aside, I still wouldn't want to cross him._ I thought warily as I continued to struggle through the sentences Madame Dufour had me repeat back, my tongue feeling like it was made of lead. While French and Italian were both Romance languages, the only language I had well and truly mastered was German, which was another kettle of fish entirely. For one, in German any kind of new pronunciation I needed could usually be produced by half-gargling, half-hacking, in the back of my throat. In French, it seemed I accomplished the same thing by dry-heaving without actually trying to bring anything up.

Several long, excruciating hours later, Madame Dufour sniffed a superior sniff and picked up her bag. "Your French is atrocious." she informed me, and to be honest, I had to agree. That didn't make it any less irritating, though. My French teacher bustled importantly towards the door, tugging on her gloves as she did. "I shall return every Tuesday at four, at which time we shall hold lessons for two hours. _Au revoir, Mademoiselle Thompson._ " she said briskly, and I hurriedly dropped into what I assumed to be a semi-accurate curtsy. " _Au revoir."_ I replied belatedly, watching as Sebastian expertly intercepted her and chewing on my lower lip as he led her out to the awaiting carriage and I drifted off back to my room. My troubles with French were worrisome, especially given that it was going to be the easiest of the _three_ new languages I would be learning. At this rate, I might be stuck in Black Butler for _years,_ just to learn the languages needed for the spell, never mind the _actual_ spell _itself_.

Alright then. Nobody said I had to play fair.

As I returned to my room, I carelessly dropped onto the bed and reached over to my apocalypse bag, grabbing my journal out of it and flipping to the back, where my magical notes and theorems were. Sebastian and the Reapers proved that there were magical creatures in this universe, so I was hoping that I could find a familiar face or two to help out with my current problem. I made a face as I flipped past some specific pages –I definitely didn't want to ask for help from another demon, and the trolls that Norway preferred to use were unpredictable unless you had the power to control them– and finally stopped on one of my very first note pages, clicking my tongue thoughtfully,

 _ **Fairy:**_

 _Fairies, also known as pixies, are one of the smallest, weakest, and most numerous of all magical creatures. They are commonly found in green areas, especially gardens, and often reside in and make heavy use of flowers. Fairies are extremely sensitive to evil and the auras of other creatures, and are easily won over by kindness or gifts from novice magicians. They can be very playful, and will often frolic in a friendly magician's garden or another place of safety. Fairies are never seen with malicious or corrupted sorcerers and give any non-benign magical creature a wide berth, thus making them extremely valued as allies despite their comparatively weak powers. They come in endless colors, varieties, and appearances, and due to their shy nature rarely appear around non-magicians. There are both male and female fairies, although male fairies are even more extraordinarily shy than the females and are rarely seen by humans. Fairies are unusually clairvoyant for their rank and can "predict" events happening in the present or extremely near future. Fairies can grant favors to magicians they find agreeable, although the power and type of these favors will vary with the amount of fairies present and the amount of attachment they have to the magician in question._

 _(Note– fairies are an entirely different species than Fæ, and can easily be distinguished via height; Fæ are human-sized or larger, and fairies rarely if ever exceed six inches.)_

I knew that I already had a good rapport with the fairies, at least in the Hetalia world, but the problem here was that A) I didn't know if they even existed in this verse, and B) fairies stayed as far away from malevolent creatures as physically (or magically) possible, and Sebastian, who had full run of the townhouse and gardens, was most certainly malevolent. I'd have to wait to make contact until he was nowhere nearby, which might have proved tricky under normal circumstances, but for once this stupid plot was working in my favor. If I remembered correctly, the Glass Palace had several gardens, and Sebastian and the others would be too busy with the curry contest to stop lil' old me from wandering off.

So, bring food, make contact, ask for help in mastering other languages. Sebastian and Soma should be discovering the perfect and/or ass-whooping curry sometime this evening, and the curry contest was in a few days.

This would be cakewalk.

 _***Time Skip***_

"Woah! What is that big creature?!" Finny squealed, bouncing on his heels as the elephant in the enclosure waved its trunk gracefully. Soma pointed at it confidently. "That is known as an elephant, a sacred animal. We keep some at my palace too; about ten of them." he said calmly, and Bardroy started from beside me. "That's crazy! As pets?!" he yelped, and Mey-rin looked pale. "You don't really keep those huge things in your house, do you?!" she gasped, and I fiddled with the brim of the flat straw hat Sebastian and Ciel had insisted that I wore. Apparently no "proper lady" went without a hat in public, as even Mey-rin had one of the itchy monstrosities perched jauntily atop her cherry-red hair. I was wearing one of my mixed "formal-outing" dresses, which was a pretty grey color with lacy hems and an open collar, along with the aforementioned itchy straw hat, and had a few chunks of bread in my left pockets for fairy bribery. "Please do not wander off, you lot." Sebastian said sedately from his place by Ciel's side, wearing his double-buttoned black greatcoat once more as the other three servants (and Soma) typically ignored his order.

" _What is that, what?!_ "

" _That's a snake charmer._ "

"Hi there Lord Earl~!"

Ciel and I half-turned to see Lau, who was calmly sitting on one of the stone-block railings with one arm around Ran-Mao, who was sitting between his legs. "The show is about to begin!" he said happily, and Ciel gave him a withering look. "Well, aren't you bold, womanizing in front of your _client_ like that." he said with a scowl, and Lau beamed, leaning over to gently poke Ran-Mao's cheek. "Come, come! Ran-Mao is my sister, just my little sister! Though we're not related by blood. She's adorable, isn't she?" he asked cheerfully as Ran-Mao stared straight ahead, not responding to his claims. "I hear the spectators will get to sample the competing curries at the fair, and I was thinking I'd give this little one a chance to try some too!" he added with his normal oblivious joy, and Ciel rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Right then…" he muttered, starting to walk off, and I jumped as Lau suddenly popped up beside us. "Anyway, is the prince's butler lad really serious?" he chimed, and Ciel frowned darkly. "He betrayed the master he regards as his God. What else would he be if not serious?" he retorted flatly, and Lau put his hands inside his billowing sleeves, still smiling. "Be that as it may, I think that West's promise to return the girl once the plan has been carried out is nothing more than a blatant lie." he commented with eerie calmness, and Ciel sighed. "Pretty much. The likelihood of West's evil deeds being exposed will increase significantly if he relinquishes his hold on Agni after all is said and done, sought-after Royal Warrant in hand or not. If I were in his shoes, I'd…"

"Kill him?"

Ciel gave Lau an incredulous look. "You can't go around killing people off one by one for such trivialities, you know." he said in disgust, and Lau beamed innocently. "Ehhh? If it were up to me, he'd be as good as dead." he said happily, then looked mischievously at Sebastian. "That aside…what really has me concerned is Master Butler's strategy for today." he added slyly, and Sebastian looked at the shorter man. "That-" he began secretively, but was cut off by an obnoxiously mannered greeting from ahead of us. "Well well! Why, if it isn't Earl Phantomhive!" I recognized the smarmy voice and the slicked-back blonde hair and was about to make a face before I remembered that insulting influential people to their face was a bad idea and quickly composed my expression into something neutral. Ciel quite obviously shared my distaste. "Yes…hello, Mister West." he said cordially through gritted teeth, and West, oblivious, tipped his hat to us. "It has been quite some time, my lord! Not since last year's London season, I believe. I'm most honored to make your acquaintance once more…"

As West continued to blather on and on in an attempt to cozy up with Ciel, I decided that this was the best chance I was going to get and drifted off into the crowd, looking for a green, open space. My best bet was the grounds outside of the Crystal Palace, since I didn't want to look like a madwoman for talking to (and feeding) thin air around large groups of people, although I was slightly worried about getting back into the Crsytal Palace without re-paying the entrance fee. I finally pushed my way through the crowd and sucked in a deep breath of relief, although I then immediately coughed and regretted it; since this was mid-Industrial Revolution and the idea of "pollution" hadn't exactly been invented yet, the very air tasted unpleasantly of oil, smoke, and coal. I shook my head rapidly, nearly dislodging my hat, before I picked up my skirts and hurried down the stone steps and into the gardens.

Luckily, the air here was cleaner and clearer –thank God– and I wove through the few stray couples and families down here for a stroll or picking flowers, looking for a secluded location with bare dirt and/or a stick. After about five or ten minutes, I found one and sat down on the stone bench, slowly picking up the stick and, to all outside appearances, became a bored, maidenly young lady drawing pictures in the dirt. I was, of course, drawing a pentacle, but the stuffed-shirt members of Victorian England had no need to know that, and it really wasn't noticeable unless you were standing right in front of me.

I didn't put any runes in it, but I tapped my booted foot on the pentagon the lines made in the middle, and closed my eyes, concentrating with all my might as I felt the familiar electric tingle of magic travel down my leg. This spell was, in essence, a way of telling any nearby magical creatures "Hey, I'm a magician, I can see you guys, do you want to talk?" Given as fairies were fairly good at sensing the auras of other things, this probably wasn't necessary, but you never know, ya know? My personal aura of magic, which all sorcerers acquired over time and all supernatural creatures could see and sense, was still probably pretty weak. And, since it was what identified me as different from all the other humans that they stayed away from, it was pretty important if I wanted anybody to try to talk to me.

I felt a tugging at my sleeve and opened my eyes, looking down, before I grinned in triumph. A small pixie was floating there, blinking her huge blue eyes uncertainly, but when I gave her a little smile and held my hand out for her to perch on it, she smiled wider and plopped herself done without hesitation. There was a tingle, like a static shock, wherever she touched me, but I was more or less used to it, since all magical auras had that same effect on me. I studied her as she studied me, sensing more than seeing it as dozens of other fairies began to flutter and perch all around me, some gently tugging at my hair, others settling down on my hat, shoulders, and lap as I giggled quietly. It seemed like I was in luck; there were a _lot_ of fairies in the Crystal Palace Gardens.

The one in my hand, who seemed to be the leader of the bunch, was about four or five inches tall, with magnetic cobalt-blue eyes that took up a quarter of her face –very typical for pixies– and long, sinuous hair that was so blonde it was nearly white. She was wearing a long, slightly puffy dress made out of some kind of white petals, with a gold and garnet broach that was probably somebody's lost earring at her throat. Her wings, which were the iridescent blue of a morpho butterfly, were still, which was partly the reason I had silently invited her to sit on my hand. Much like bugs, constantly flying around could be very tiring for fairies.

A gentle tugging on my thumb by that very same fairy reminded me that I hadn't come here to stare, and immediately, in simple terms, I began laying out my problem. As I talked, most of the fairies who were perched all over me moved to my lap, all listening raptly –which was a good sign. Britain had said that they could be extremely flighty and mischievous, when the mood took them, and I really didn't need any nonsense right now. Their magical auras, which manifested in multicolored glows around their bodies, fluctuated slightly as I talked, which was another good sign; it meant that they were not only paying attention, they were thinking about what I said. I felt the ones in my hair constantly shifting, and I wasn't too surprised that, when they finally left my head and flew down to my lap and I put my hand up, that my hair had been woven into several tiny braids and more than a few miniature flowers.

I finally finished, and leaned back carefully, trying not to disturb anyone, as they quietly chattered to each other in one of the many magical languages I had never learned. There were about forty or fifty of them, all dressed in leaves, flower petals and scraps of bark, with the occasional lost or "borrowed" bit of human jewelry worked in here and there. They had every variety of wing known to man or beast; butterfly, moth, dragonfly, and even a few feathers and bat wings working themselves in here and there. Luckily for my patience, the fairies were quick talkers, and the leader gently gripped my thumb again. We communicated more in concepts than actual words, this time.

They would help. But why does the young human have some bad magic around her?

 _I live with a demon and his contractor._

Worry, worry, the human would get a lot of special wards from them.

 _I have some bread. Do you want some?_

Yes please, yes please. Will the young human be coming back here again?

 _Probably not._

Call them anytime, they will come. They like the young human, with the nice manners and the good food.

"Sure thing, dude." I said out loud, then carefully pulled the bread out of my pocket with my free hand and let them surround it with squeals of delight. I smiled slightly as they all quickly divided it up and then flew away, leaving me not so much as a crumb in my open hand. I watched as their return payment –a horde of tiny magical sigils that only a magician or magician creature could see– swarmed over me and sank into my very skin, occasionally picking out one or two that I knew, such as Guard, Purity, Ward, Strength, and other protective spells before they absorbed into my skin and disappeared. The first fairy that had approached me remained, however, along with two or three others, and as I scuffed out my pentacle and tossed the stick in a random direction, she hovered around my face, waiting for my attention. "Don'tcha got anywhere to go?" I asked curiously as I tilted my braid-and-flower-woven head backwards, and she grabbed one of my bangs and pulled gently, clearly intending to lead my somewhere. I shrugged and obeyed, picking my way through the gardens and towards the buildings surrounding the Crystal Palace.

 _What's the worst that could happen?_

 _ **1.00 PM, USA Central Time**_


	15. That Butler, Sustaining

_**YAY! No more finals! No more homework! I'm free! I'm freeeeeeeeeeee! *giddily runs off into the sunset* Sorry 'bout the theatrics, but I had finals and a bunch of missing homework all in the same week, which is something that should never be combined. Ever. But now I'm free, and I may write whatsoever I please… *happy sigh* It's good to be back. Still steadily churning my way through Black butler, but luckily soon I can stop paying attention to canon (insofar as not copying down the already existing plot) and start having fun. Life is good.**_

 _ **March 10, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I watched through the corners of my eyes as most of the fairies either flitted away or poofed into nothing the closer we got to public thoroughfares, which I had honestly been expecting. Fairies didn't hanging about non-sighted humans, unlike many other magical creatures, who enjoyed stealing food from people who would never be able to catch them at it. Eventually it was just me and the first pixie, who had placed herself on my shoulder, tugging gently on my hair whenever I deviated from the path she was apparently trying to lead me on.

For those who might question my complacency in being led –especially considering recent and-not-so-recent events– I would like to remind them that fairies were _exclusively_ benevolent creatures, as well as clairvoyant to a certain extent; they could sense things that were literally just seconds or minutes away from happening. Their loyalty, as I had just demonstrated, was also extremely easy to win, so whatever the fairy was leading me to right now, it was going to help me out either now or in the very near future.

Their intuition was also very good, so even if I hadn't told them about a certain problem of mine, they might know-

"Hell! How dare they reduce my plan to ashes!"

I froze as stopped in front of a small alley, seeing someone in a smarmy suit slouched up against one of the walls. It was West, and a Hindustani woman was leaning over him –probably Mina. _Why did you bring me_ _ **here**_ _?_ I thought urgently to the pixie, eyes wide, and she looked up at me solemnly and put one tiny finger to her mouth, then made a gesture with her other hand. I saw a few faint sparkles of magic drift out from her fingertips, wrapping around the two of us and probably concealing us from sight. I correspondingly shrunk back against the walls, so that if someone came along, they wouldn't trip over me; spells that acted on the sight rarely extended to any of the other five senses. Mina knelt down beside her husband. "Cheer up…there's always next time." she said in a consoling tone, and I jumped as a familiar voice rang out from right beside my elbow.

"Yes, yes. Next time, quite."

I quickly sidestepped Lau as he obliviously shifted onto one foot, placing a hand on his hip and nearly hitting me with his elbow. "Hiya, you two. Nice try back there." he said cheerfully, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. My eyes narrowed slightly as I looked from Lau to the two troublemakers, trying to piece together when I had seen this, where. It had been so long since I'd seen any anime from the outside, never mind this one, but –something bad was going to happen here. I could remember that much, and if I could just remember _what_ …

West and Mina quickly jumped to their feet. "Who are you!?" West spluttered, and Lau gave a blissful little shrug, ignoring the question. "Lord Earl said to leave the small fry alone, but those who try something once will try it again and again." he said innocently, and the fairy suddenly shrank back against my hair; my hand automatically rose to cover her as my nervousness increased. That confirmed it; if a fairy was uneasy, then something bad was _definitely_ going to happen. "He's still too soft when it comes to that sort of thing, I guess." Lau sighed regretfully, and chills ran down my spine as his sneaky persona resurfaced again, the Chinaman smirking ominously. "Heh…well, I do find his boyish side rather lovable."

Sudden realization struck me like a thunderbolt as Ran-Mao silently stepped into and blocked the other end of the alley, two large, semi-decorated Chinese meteor hammers dangling from her hands.

Right.

 _Right._

"But I must strike some fear into the hearts of the naughty little mice who made a mess of my garden here in the East End." Lau continued happily as I gathered up my skirts and began edging past him as quickly –and quietly– as I could, my heart in my mouth. I heard the thunderous _wham_ as Ran-Mao swung one of the hammers down on the pavement, and, past Lau, broke out into a dead run through the crowd. I dodged people and carts as various animals belatedly reacted to my unseen presence while their bemused owners tried to calm them, my whole body alight with nerves. The fairy remembered to take her illusion off when I finally rushed back into the gardens around the Crystal Palace, pressing my back against a tree and gasping for breath. I _really_ needed to get back in running shape; this was just disgraceful. The fairy chirped in concern, gently stroking my cheek, and I carefully waved her off, not wanting to hurt her.

" 'S okay. I haven't run this much in a while." I explained, still panting hard, and she nodded solemnly, taking out a piece of the bread I had given them earlier and nibbling on it while she waited for me to calm down. Apparently her own unease had been quickly forgotten, which made sense; two cases of human murder, while horrible up close, was not something terribly worrying for a semi-immortal fairy. The aura of evil and corruption was small and ended almost immediately after the deed had been done. I, on the other hand, was still trying to come to grips with the fact that Mina and West had been pounded into a thin red smear on the pavement –or would be within a few moments.

Right.

 _Right._

Okay, I had seen people killed before. I had seen an innocent person get killed before. I could just –deal. Mina and West were bad people, and while they didn't necessarily deserve to be murdered because of it, I could still –deal. A few stray trickles of sweat ran down my neck as I leaned my head back against the cool bark of the tree and gasped shallowly, trying to force my jumping nerves back into complacency. But despite my horror, I had learned a vital piece of information thanks to the fairy, and as soon as I could work my mind back into a more stable state, I would thank her.

Up until a certain point in the anime, Lau was just sorta _there_.

But in the manga, not only was he more active, but he also had an impressive propensity for violence.

So, unless I was suddenly otherwise informed, I was going to assume I was in the manga version of Black Butler. _Thank god, no psycho angel twins._ I thought with a sigh of (slightly ironic) relief, and finally held a slightly trembling hand up to the fairy. She gripped my finger reassuringly, but I was well on the way to dealing with the sudden and rather violent murder I had almost witnessed. After all, if I correctly remembered what little of the manga I _did_ remember, there was gonna be a lot more of that style of murder to come.

 _Note to self, stay away from the mansion when Ciel and Sebastian go to visit the circus. And learning to shoot that Colt of yours properly probably wouldn't go amiss either._

I finally straightened up, brushing my dress off as the fairy fluttered in front of my face, looking anxious. "I'm fine." I told her confidently, then held my hand out to her, palm upwards. She landed, and I closed my eyes, envisioning another simple pentacle in my mind. While this was technically supposed to be easier than actually drawing it out, I still had a bit of trouble correctly calling to mind all of the appropriate lines. Slowly though, my palm began to glow with magic, and the fairy squealed in joy. I watched the light fade as she held out her own tiny hands, slowly pulling it into herself like a cat basking in sunlight. I half expected her to purr. Magical creatures –and most magicians– liked things to be even; if someone does you a favor, you should repay them, preferably as soon and generously as possible. It was just common courtesy; she had given me protection and some vital clues that would help me in future, and I was giving her a surplus of magical power that she could use however she pleased. It was a completely even trade; and besides, if I hadn't repaid her, that figured me as ungrateful and rude, two things that weren't good no matter what supernatural or mundane kind of person you were.

Also, since in any kind of sorcerous ranking I was still an apprentice, I felt like it would be best for me to start out on the right foot.

The fairy finally absorbed all the power I had given her, and smiled up at me, giving my palm a reassuring pat. She then flitted off, and I pulled back the sleeve of my dress, checking my watch. It was almost four o'clock –16.00, as the Europeans would put it– and the sun was already setting. I quickly picked up my skirts again, exposing my stylish Italian boots (courtesy of the aforementioned birthday party which also got me my winter coat and watch) and making tracks for the Crystal Palace. I didn't want to get left behind, and I certainly wouldn't put it past Ciel –or Sebastian– to "conveniently" forget me after I wandered off, to teach me a lesson in staying put when my employers told me to.

Luckily, I made it to the Palace and saw that Ciel's carriage was still out front, then promptly ran into Mey-rin –literally. We both nearly fell to the ground, but out of sheer dumb luck –or one of our innate sense of balances– we kept on our feet. "There you are Miss Arya!" she said worriedly as we finally got un-tangled and pushed away from each other, sliding her glasses up her nose and grabbing me by the sleeve. "You missed a lot of exciting things, yes you did!" she squealed, tugging me towards the entrance. "Mister Sebastian won the trophy-"

 _Le gasp, I_ _ **never**_ _would have thought._

"-and we even got to see Her Majesty in person, yes we did!" Mey-rin babbled as we met up with the others, and Bardroy snorted as he loaded something into the carriage. "She looked like a funky old granny to me." he said dismissively as the native Brits around us all gasped in dismay, and I held my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle a snicker. "Victoria is the Queen of Great Britain." Sebastian's muffled voice said from inside the coach, and he got back out, apparently having placed something inside. "Not only is she the ruler who has established the most illustrious era in British history, and expanded Britain's international colonial reach to such an extent it has been dubbed "the country upon which the sun never sets", she also sets the trends for everything from fashion to social functions and popular dances, and boasts the unconditional favor of her people." He finished his little speech by giving me and Bardroy deeply disapproving glares. "It is neither wise nor appropriate to mock her." he added, and Bardroy gulped as I looked down and scuffled my foot against the dusty street shamefully.

Not because of Sebastian though, because honestly he probably cared about Queen Victoria just as much as we did (but had to object to our mocking, being a butler to a nobleman in service to the queen and whatnot), but because I had been taught magic by Britain, and it wasn't very nice of me to go around making fun of one of his favorite rulers –he had ranted about how awesome she was on several occasions.

 _Sorry, Britain._ I thought sheepishly as I got into the second, smaller carriage that was for us servants, and Ciel, Sebastian, Soma, and Agni all got into the first one. I opened my journal and began paging through it, finding a clear page and starting to copy down everything I remembered from Madame Dufour. Then I sat there and stared, my forehead creasing as I tried to make sense of absolute gibberish –and, perhaps predictably, failed miserably. After a while there was a tickle in the back of my mind, much like the tingle I got from touching magical creatures, and the slightly stilted words all of a sudden seemed to make _sense_. I smirked proudly, giving myself a mental pat on the back as I began to calculate how long it would take for me to completely master French and move on to Greek or Latin, with further magical help from Britain's pixie population.

I could do this. I could totally do this.

 _ **8.46 PM, USA Central Time**_


	16. That Butler, Moving Out

_**Hey guys! I got some really nice reviews last chapter, it makes me so happy~ Hi**_ _butidigress_ _ **, your review seriously, like, made my week. Not just made my day, but, like,**_ _week_ _ **. I'll try to write as fast (and well) as I can, but there are some interfering factors such as school, my job, and life in general. So, you know, I'll do my best. Hey Singular Poisonous Ashes, nice to see ya again. I'm doing my best to remember your advice, but I guess only time will tell whether or not I did a good job.**_ _ **And yes** FallenwaterTheFallen **, there shall be murders. Murders everywhere. More and eternal kudos to** TheKatanaMistress **, because you've been with this story since like literally forever. Note to everybody in general, I'll be splitting my efforts between this and the "Sun Never Set" story, so consistent updates may be sporadic. I'm terribly sorry in advance if this is the case.**_ _ **By the way, the Xs on Arya's theoretical tombstone represent her years of birth and death, and since this story is posted on the Internet and she left our world in the exact "present" time, her birthdate is continually moving around, since she is technically always 16 in the current year. Her death date is of course also theoretical, so it is also represented by Xs.**_

 _ **March 15, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I busily folded up the dresses and other clothing that Miss Nina had sewn for me, before putting them in my apocalypse bag and somewhat halfheartedly hoping that neither Sebastian nor anyone else would notice that I had managed to stuff the entire contents of my wardrobe –and some extra– into a satchel that didn't even come up to my knee, excepting when I stood it straight up. The dumb straw hat that I had been forced to acquire earlier hung askew on my hair, and I had probably missed a few buttons on my winter coat when I shrugged it on. For those who wonder about my haste in packing, Mey-rin had bounced in this morning and said that we were driving back to the Phantomhive estate today, and that after she finished helping the other servants throw dust sheets over all the furniture, she would help me pack.

Given as I my bag could not only selectively hide certain objects, I could actually literally stick my arm in it up to the shoulder –and probably more than that– I was rather eager to get everything tucked away before the well-meaning but very mundane maid could discover my apocalypse bag's somewhat unearthly properties.

 _And speaking of…_

I subconsciously traced my fingers along the Colt in its holster, stashed under my heavy winter coat. I had been practicing unloading, reloading, and cleaning my Colt in my room, although I still didn't have the bullets or the confidence to practice with it. _Not to mention Ciel would probably have Sebastian kill me if I messed up his townhouse with bullet holes._ I thought with some irony, the straightened my hat with a growl, mentally cursing the straw confection to the deepest pits of hell. I finally got all my clothes and accouterments into my apocalypse bag, spared a moment of worry about whether or not I'd be able to find them in there, and then shrugged, swinging it onto my shoulders just as Mey-rin entered.

"Oh! You're done already, miss?" she asked in surprise, and I smiled cheerfully, pushing my hat back on my head just a little bit. "Yup!" I told her confidently, and she peered inside my wardrobe and then turned around, a question mark appearing over her head. "…your luggage, miss?" she asked in confusion as she stared at me with my lone bag, slung over one shoulder, and I offered it to her silently. "I'm really good at packing." I said sheepishly as a host of question marks grew over her head, obviously confused as to where all my things had gone. "I can carry it myself." I added, and she smiled brightly. "Well, if you wish to, it's no problem, yes it is."

 _Thank god for people minding their own business._ I thought with a sigh, following her down the corridors as we headed down towards the courtyard and street. Most of the others were already inside the carriage or preparing its outside, depending on their station, and I heaved my bag up onto the roof as Bardroy tied it off, giving me a friendly nod as I grinned back at him and went to go find something else to make myself useful. Traveling from point A to point B was a lot more complicated than I was used to around here; everything that wasn't too heavy to move or a part of the townhouse's furnishings had to come with us, and it would take a goodly part of the day to travel the twenty or so miles from London in the carriages Ciel had acquired. (I didn't know if they actually belonged to the Phantomhive estate or he'd just hired them, but either way, it was impressive.)

Since the "season" and the Curry Arc was over, Ciel was returning to his actual estates outside of London, bringing the rest of us with him as a matter of course. I was of two minds about the move. On one hand, there was the Phantomhive manor, which no living fangirl (or boy) had ever set foot in. On the other, it was really far away from London, and I liked having the option of a major city nearby if I ever needed to flee from a certain demonical someone. Granted, it was extremely unlikely he would pull anything without Ciel telling him to, and I had given Ciel no reason to tell him to, but I liked to cover all options. It made me feel safe.

However, we soon set out regardless, and I pulled my journal out from inside my Russian jacket and balanced it on my knees, letting Finny and Mey-rin make comments about all the buildings surrounding their route back to the manor as I took out my –luckily not too futuristic-looking– favorite pen.

 _December 29th (1888) "Kuroshitsuji" Reckoning_

 _(Song) Quote for the Day:_

 _"Denn die Todten reiten schnell. (For the dead travel fast.)" –(Quote)_

 _I apologize in advance for my sucky penmanship, since I'm writing this from the back of a very bouncy cart while Bardroy yells at the Londoners and their traffic. London is so much different now than how it was when England let me wander around, everything's smokier and dirtier and just in general **smaller**. Not that it isn't bad, because everyone's clothing is a lot more interesting, and it's kinda (majorly nerdily awesomely) cool to see things how the world worked several hundred years ago. I mean, nobody alive has ever seen this kind of authentic historical representation. History buffs, eat your heart(s) out. Also, since everyone was too busy with the curry competition to have Christmas, I missed out on poor ol' Saint Nick's annual celebration. (Finland would be ashamed of me. I have disgraced his favoritest holiday in the history of ever.)_

 _Focus!_

 _Okay, so the curry competition is over, so if my memory serves me correctly the Noah's Arc Circus should be the next little problem to perplex us. (Say that fives times fast. Problem to perplex us. Problem to perplex us. Problem to perplex us. Problem to perplex us. Problem to perplex us. Hehe, this is fun.)_

 _My apologies to my future self. We had a lot of sugary things for breakfast this morning and I'm a bit giddy, not to mention the fact that the world is so full of snow and brightness and cold that you can like **taste** the energy on your tongue. Pluswhich I'm once again in a situation that fangirls would kill to experience. Yours truly is a bit excited over here. And cold. (Note to self, buy earmuffs. Or a hat that actually covers my ears. And some mittens. A scarf would be nice too. Stupid winter.)_

 _I also need a lot of time and practice to be able to use my Colt as anything but a visual deterrent. I mean, thanks to Germany and Prussia I can load and clean it pretty fast, but if my aim is the same as it was a few weeks ago when I shot at Oliver (see previous entries) I'm in trouble for when the scarier and more aggressive characters start showing up. Granted, for the Grim Reapers n' stuff the Hetalian concept of "shooting them won't kill them but it'll sure as hell slow 'em down" should apply. I really don't want to kill any named characters, but if it's me or them, I'm knocking over some tombstones._

 _My French is going okay. So far it's mostly just words and some very small sentences. Lots and lots of repetition. (...Beaucoup de répétitions. Beaucoup, beaucoup de répétitions.) The fairies do seem to be keeping their promise of helping me out though, because there's this little extra edge at the back of my mind that helps me stay focused whenever I'm studying, ya know? Pixie power is awesome. I'm going to try and feed them some more when Sebastian is off in London with Ciel and looking around at the circus, it never hurts to give magical creatures too much human food. They're like totally addicted to it. It makes an easier bribe than magical power, since it takes energy out of me to draw the magical power out of the surrounding environment, not to mention the fact that it drains magical power from the area around me and leaves a sort of "footprint" for anybody who knows what magical power looks like._

 _If I know Oliver (and I do, far more than I'd like) he's probably absolutely insane with rage by now, and if I leave too much of a footprint, he might find just what he's looking for…_

 _I need to stop that train of thought before it makes me stop using magic, period. Oliver and all of the other 2ps have been kicked to the farthest universe possible away from me and the Hetalian world by extension. They are never coming back, and even if they do manage it sometime in the future, it'll take them so long I'm either A) an old granny that'll have a heart attack just from the surprise of seeing 'em or B) already dead._

 _I want to take a moment to imagine the second option, wherein they finally fight their way back to my world, find out where I live(d) and then get directed towards my grave and then they all just stand there staring at the headstone for a few seconds, realizing that I'm dead and they can't touch me._

* * *

 _Aryana Thompson_

 _XXXX-XXXX_

 **RIP**

Fuck you Oliver, I win.

* * *

 _I would pay **money** to see that temper tantrum. I would pay buckets of money. Under certain circumstances, I would sell my soul for a chance to witness that beautiful momentary scene of irony. In fact, Imma gonna put that on my headstone just to confuse people, and on the off-chance that Oliver and the others ever actually do manage to get to my world. Although the people that design headstones probably don't allow expletives. Maybe if I bribe them?_

 _Ah, hell. It's worth a try._

 _Ehm, anyway. I know that the circus members attack Ciel's mansion when Elizabeth is in residence and Ciel's gone, and since he seems to have no intention of going to London anytime soon, I should have a window of opportunity to get things done. I should prioritize. Military stuff first, magic stuff second. Survival is slightly more important than getting home, as I can't get home if I'm a bloody corpse. Or any other kind of corpse, for that matter._

 _Whatever. We're on the bare road now, so I gotta put this away before I get ink all over the pages._

 _Things I Need To Do by the Time I Leave "Kuroshitsuji":_

 _Learn Latin –very important. How the hell else am I gonna get home, since Britain can't send me the one they used in the first place?_

 _Learn Greek –See above._

 _Learn French –See above above._

 _Learn magical combat –I'm getting back in shape, but what with the Reapers and all that other nasty business, I'm gonna need to know more than a magic wall –which they could probably cut through with their Death Scythes– and a spell to nonliving transport objects from one place to another._

 _Get back in running shape –I can still do most of my exercises, but I need to find a way to get back my speed. It's been extraordinarily useful in helping me stay alive thus far, and I kinda like being alive. I'm used to it._

 _Learn how to use a gun –Specifically, my Colt Action revolver. I need to be able to defend myself, I can't phone in my self-defense anymore like in Hetalia with the others. I don't know hand-to-hand combat or martial arts, nor am I terribly intimidating all on my lonesome, so a gun should be very useful._

 _Shop –Even though this is the middle, tending towards the end, of winter, I am in desperate need of warm clothing besides this awesome and in all ways holy coat. That and some more ammo for my Colt, some non-perishable food to replenish my apocalypse bag's emergency stores, some souvenirs for back home…_

 _ **2.48 PM, USA Central Time**_


	17. That Butler, Bite of the Ant

_**Hi** butidigress **, also now known as** BlackFireOx **! About Snake, yes, in the Murder Arc. About pants, eh, maybe. There will be crossdressing (as the Victorians would see it) on Arya's part because of a certain college that starts with W that she will attend later. (*cough* Naming no names. *cough*)** Parallel Parabox **, thank you for your appreciation. I can only do my best. About running in a dress, I have actually done so and it's surprisingly not all that hard. And this is not the "oh I'm late" running, this is the "there is a herd of zombies behind me and I must run or die" running. It's an interesting story actually, you see we were at some kind of cousin's (may have been an actual cousin or a cousin a few times removed, I can't really remember) wedding, and of course all the kids were bored out of our collective skulls, so we started up this game of tag –in full wedding regalia. I don't remember who won, and I don't think we even had a winner because the parents interrupted us and said we might tip something over if we kept running around, but still. I have run in a dress, and outran a bunch of sugar-high elementary kids while doing so. It's not that hard.**_ _ **Also, Arya is about a hundred years off with the date of the French Revolution, but we all have to remember that she hasn't been in school for roughly a year, and she had only finished two years of high school before that accidental spell came along and messed things up for her.**_

 _ **March 23, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

I was woken up out of my light doze by the cart rattling back onto a solid surface, and sleepily tipped my itchy straw hat up. Mey-rin was sleeping, but Finny was awake, talking eagerly with Bardroy. The three of us were nevertheless tightly packed together for warmth, and I yawned again, then shivered. _Must get mittens. Or a hat. Or both. Urgent note to self._ I thought with another jaw-stretching yawn, sitting up slightly to see what we had driven onto.

Apparently it was more cobblestones, and as I sat up, looking past Bardroy and the horses, there was the Phantomhive manor, in all its glory. I whistled under my breath as we drove closer, tipping my hat back further on my head. It was at least four stories high –probably more, as it included a basement– and had three wings that I could see, all of it built with some very nice gothic architecture, covered grey stone and climbing green ivy.

Now _that_ was a manor.

 _Apparently being more-than-normally loyal to the British crown pays off, over the generations._ I thought musingly, readjusting my hat so it wouldn't fall off and then sitting up a little bit to take in our surroundings. We had just driven out of what appeared to be some kind of forest, although from here I couldn't tell how big or small it was. The front lawn was immaculately groomed and had what looked like it could be a fountain, in warmer weather, as well as several hedgerows and gravel paths leading off onto the grounds. A flight of elegant steps led up to the manor proper, where I half-expected Sebastian to be waiting, tea tray in hand and an unreadable smirk on his face.

 _There has to be a word for "that feeling you get after reading something a billion times and then going to the real place it's based on and being surprised that the characters aren't there"._ I thought pensively _,_ clicking my tongue against my teeth.

There _had_ to be.

Irrelevant musings on multi-dimensional déja vu aside, we had finally arrived at the Phantomhive manor. I nudged Mey-rin awake as the horses slowly clopped to a halt, and Finny jumped eagerly out of the cart to –apparently– go help Sebastian and Ciel unload their luggage as the rest of us waited for our turn to assist, which we would have to do before talking our own things aside. I kicked half-heartedly at the snow as Mey-rin nearly fell asleep on my shoulder again, grumpily watching Ciel sweep inside the house with Sebastian close behind. Already I was learning how society was arranged prior to all those nice equal-rights things that the French Revolution had established; everybody had to do things for the nobles, while they sat around and chilled. Since I was technically part of the servant class, we had to get Ciel's luggage inside first, _then_ we could transport our _own_ stuff into the safe confines of the manor.

 _Hey Big Bothers France, Russia, and America, it's me, Arya. Can you share some of your equal rights for all men ideas with Britain?_

 _…I don't even care about women at this point, I'll use an illusion…_

 _***Time Skip***_

Okay, so apparently Ciel did not trust me around his personal effects. After Finny took as much as he could carry and Bardroy drove the two carriages back somewhere, Mey-rin and I stepped up to the plate…sorta. Barely had I touched the handle to one of the suitcases when Sebastian suddenly popped up and "politely escorted" (read, made me leave on pain of death) away from the carriage. Disgruntled as I was –what, did Ciel expect me to put a magic circle on his underpants or something?– I was actually pleased to have this chance to converse with the man (loose term) who more or less ran the day-to-day things around here. This was my chance to get started on my list.

"So, Mister Sebastian," I began as we walked down towards the servant's quarters, somewhere in the basement. Occasionally I had to skip forward a pace, as he was much taller and had a much longer stride than I did. "Is there a running track or anything around here?"

He glanced down at me and raised an eyebrow at that perfect "and why would you be asking suspicious person whom I don't particularly like" angle. "There is a trail for horseback riding, but it is not something an ordinary person should transverse." he answered smoothly.

 _Fuck._

Then another idea popped up, and I looked at him again. "Well, can I borrow a horse, then?" I asked hesitantly.

Oh look, it's the eyebrow again. "You are capable of riding a horse?" Sebastian asked as he looked down at me, sounding faintly surprised, and I gave him a sheepish grin. "Well, yeah. Normal riding, not-"

 _Ah_ _heck what was that weird position they made women ride in way back when._

"-sidesaddle, though."

Since I had grown up on a former-farm-turned-horse-ranch, I had learned fairly early on how to ride. I hadn't practiced in years, but hey, it wasn't a skill you quickly forgot. Dad had made me learn because he had briefly entertained the idea of me guiding people around the trails (which was quickly discarded, since our ranch wasn't big enough for people to get lost on), and the fact that, and I quote, "we make our living off of these frickedy-fracking animals so you had better learn how to ride 'em or you'll end up disgracing the family name in front of our clients, no pressure."

My dad is very strange, I know.

Anyways, my contact with the horses owned by my family had been minimal after about thirteen, when my parents could no longer guilt-trip me into walking/biking the half-mile to feed them, but I remembered more than a few basics about cleaning, taming, and feeding the large, occasionally temperamental animals. (For those who do not believe in horses being temperamental, please watch the Disney movie Spirit. It's not a very big exaggeration.)

Moving on. My point is that I am neither a horse whisperer or a horse nerd, the kind that goes and tells their problems to their favorite horse (Insert Color Here) Beauty while brushing them in a sunlit stable. I took a lot of that sort of crap at school when I was little and 'twoud prefer it never being mentioned again. Just because my family owns horses does not make me a horse-fanatic, any more than owning a dog makes you a crazy dog lady.

Sebastian interrupted my internal emotionally-scarring-backstory monologue by abruptly changing direction. "The Phantomhive estate boasts a truly magnificent stable. There should be a mount adequate to your tastes there." he said in that "I work for the best people in the world" voice he used on occasion, usually when telling other people about the Phantomhives, and I rolled my eyes and followed him. Having to be a walking, talking billboard all the time would drive me absolutely insane; yet more proof that Sebastian was absolutely unnatural. Besides, you know, the whole demon thing.

The manor was at least six times the size of the townhouse and I could already feel myself getting lost, and had Sebastian not been leading the way I probably would never have been found again. (And maybe even when he _was_ leading the way.) "Mey-rin will direct you to your shared room when you have finished conducting your business in the stables. Dinner is at 19.00 and _you_ , specifically, are to retire at 20.00, barring anything my master wishes you to research."

I mentally calculated it all out on my fingers as I continued to walk-skip after Sebastian; right now it was probably sometime around three in the afternoon, so going by everybody-but-American time that gave me five hours until dinner. Given as it usually took roughly thirty minutes to get a horse ready and then clean them off when you were done, I had four hours to get back my old skill. Possibly less, since I was not terribly confident in my ability to remember how to saddle a horse, especially by using whatever ungodly so-called equipment they had back in 1888.

 _Nearly 1889._ I realized with a thoughtful "huh" of interest, stopping dead as Sebastian finally entered the stables and turned to face me. "Please wait here." he said with an angelic smile that instantly set me on guard, and vanished into the hay-smelling gloom. I began frantically running through all the things that could be used as murder weapons in any given stable, then remembered that me and Sebastian had called pax, to use a delightfully Ye Olde British term, and relaxed. Slightly. Demons were demons, after all.

My ears pricked up at the familiar clopping sound of a horse's hooves, and I turned slightly to see Sebastian leading an already-saddled horse by the reins, still smiling with all the innocence he could muster.

I gulped.

The horse he was leading was _huge_ , and I was pretty sure that wasn't just because I hadn't seen one in a while. It was dark grey all over, and had the powerfully built form and broad back of a charger or plowhorse. It tossed its head to the side, eyeing me, and I was pretty sure it wasn't impressed with what it saw. "This is Dämon." Sebastian said as his angelic look faded into a neutral smirk. "His line was imported from Germany several years ago, so they are quite valuable. Don't damage him."

 _Right, like he isn't going to damage **me**._ I thought as I fearfully stared up at the giant horse. "…is there a problem?" Sebastian asked smoothly after several seconds, and I gave him a foul look as I reached for the reins. "No, sir." I muttered through clenched teeth, and Sebastian's mouth twitched slightly in what might have been a smirk if the lighting was right, and he let go, walking away. I watched him as he went, internally cursing his demonic self to the lowest reaches of hell as I tightly gripped the reins.

In hindsight, that last bit may have been a bad idea.

Dämon, sensing in that really unfair way that horses seemed to have that the person gripping his reins was perhaps not the most in-practice rider, suddenly screamed a challenge and reared backward, and I screeched as my arm was nearly wrenched out of my socket, actually lifted up into the air by his backwards momentum. I frantically grabbed the reins with my other hand as his foot lashed out within an inch of my hip, knowing that the only way to get him –and myself– back on the ground was to hold on to the bridle and weigh his head down. I curled my legs up close to my chest as he continued to kick and neigh, hoping desperately that my bones were not about to be broken by some steel-shod hoof.

Eventually he calmed down and sank back onto all fours, and I shakily extended my feet and stood upright as well. My shoulders, especially the right one, were screaming in pain, and I rubbed it as I glared –hopefully menacingly– at the now-placid horse.

Apparently Mister "Demon" was well-named.

"Alright, listen to me you demonic little pony." I snarled, gripping his bridle tighter and pulling his head down, looking him in as the eye best I could given our species difference. "I'm the human here, _I'm_ in charge. You watch your ass."

Dämon rolled his head sideways to look at me, and his black eye seemed to hold a wicked gleam of challenge. _Oh really, small child? I'm sneezed out tougher things than you._

I realized how schizophrenic this was and glared at him, turning around and starting to lead him outside. I stopped dead as I realized that he wasn't moving an inch, the reins jerking at my sore shoulder as they were pulled taunt, and I whirled around and glared at him again.

Dämon snorted derisively at me, standing stock-still with all the immovability that a 900-pound animal can manage. _Told you._

Alright, two could play this game. I glanced around for any kind of solid item within reach, and quickly tied Dämon to an unmovable iron ring fixed on a nearby post. That done, I picked up my skirts and started searching the stables. I checked lofts and moved boxes and bags to the side, making sure to look inside them first. If this place was anything like the ranches back home, then they would have–

A barrel that was…yes! Full of apples!

I victoriously grabbed one and then put three or four extras in my pockets, walking back towards where I had left Mister Dämon. His ears flicked forward and then back as he saw me, both scenting and seeing the apple in my hand. I grinned. _Let the games begin._ I glanced over my shoulder to mark our position, then turned back to the horse. Dämon remained still as I untied him from the post, and I quickly took a large step backwards, holding out the apple. Slowly, as if he was only doing it to humor me, the huge grey horse stepped forward. I wiggled the apple a little, taking another large step back, always keeping my grip on the reins. He slowly, lazily, took another step forward.

This excruciatingly slow game of red-light green-light continued until we were actually outside the stables, and I quickly glanced around for the mounting block as I took yet another step backwards. Dämon nearly stretched his head out and got the apple at my moment of inattention as I hurriedly looked back towards him, steadily walking backwards towards the block. I quickly looped his reins around the hitching post right next to it, and held my hand towards him, flat and palm-up with the apple balanced in the middle. This was the part I was most nervous about, since it meant _my_ hand was going near _his_ teeth. Dämon gave me another measuring look, probably knowing exactly what I was thinking about, then slowly bent his head down and began to much on the apple.

Apparently I had proved my worth by getting him out of the stable; he didn't use his teeth. I sighed in relief and waited until he was done before withdrawing my hand and walking around him to the block, before mounting up like I had done a thousand times before with our very own horses. Granted, this guy was a lot bigger and broader than the ones we owned, and I winced as I slipped my feet into the stirrups. I could tell already, I was going to ache in the morning.

For those who were not raised the way I was, it is a basic fact of human anatomy that putting something roughly three feet wide –vis, a horse's back– between your knees for extended periods of time will stretch out your calf and quad muscles demonically. The bigger the horse, the more they stretch. The more they stretch, the more they will hurt like a bitch afterwards. Think of it as straddling a barrel, only this barrel will rock back and forth as it moves and it will also jolt you up and down, depending on the speed and gait of the horse.

This particular barrel also had a penchant for being pure unadulterated evil.

I had barely gotten a good grip on the reins before he shot forward, and I swore and hauled back on the reins, making him rear up again and neigh shrilly. Since I hadn't ridden a horse in years, my posture and grip was not what it should be and I slipped right off of him, landing on the frost-hard ground with a thud and a round of ear-blistering curses in multiple languages –mostly Italian, since my Italian teacher had the cursing capabilities of a god and I had inadvertently picked up quite a bit from him.

Dämon tossed his head and pranced smugly around me in an almost-perfect circle, whinnying in what sounded eerily like derision. _Just because I let you get on me doesn't mean I'm going to play nice._

I wiped some snow off my face and sat up again, glaring murderously at the horse. I got to my feet and made a snatch for the reins, but he jerked his head away and I missed. Glaring at him, I sidestepped and grabbed for the trailing leather straps; he ducked his head and flirted away from me. Seeing red, I was momentarily tempted to get out my Colt and fill this creature's head full of bullets, but just as I was diving my hand inside my dress I felt the apples in my pocket, and yanked one of those out instead. Humans were at the top of just about every food chain ever. I had the power of reason and bribery. I would beat this horse if it killed me.

Waving it under his nose, I got Dämon to back up towards the mounting block. We repeated the same procedure until I was once more firmly seated on his back, and I felt his muscles bunch as he once more broke out into a gallop, just to test me. I quickly squeezed my legs as hard as I could and jerked the reins back, making him rear once more. However, this time I was prepared, and continued to grip his sides as hard as I could with my out-of-practice legs and saw back on the reins. After about a minute of heart-stopping vertical gravity, he sank back onto his front legs and I –slightly– loosened my grip on the reins. He turned his head and regarded me with one thoughtful black eye.

 _You're not as much of a novice as I thought._

I gave him a no-nonsense glare and nudged him towards the open paddock I spotted nearby with the reins. I was not stupid enough to trust this horse on an open trail, and just because I had been lucky so far didn't mean that this very large and very temperamental animal couldn't break my bones –or worse– if given an opportunity. His hooves were entirely capable of bashing my skull in with one well-placed kick, and if he reared and I fell off and I hit a rock on the way down…

Dämon shook his mane slightly and I instantly tightened my grip, wary of another trick. When riding horses, this one in particular, what-ifs were unimportant and quite potentially dangerous. "No funny business, buddy boy." I muttered under my breath as I glared down at the back of his neck, and he whinnied quietly, as if to say _Don't push your luck with me, small fry. Just because you stayed on the second time doesn't make you worthy of my greatness._

His walk turned into a slight trot, and I gave an embarrassing squeak of pain as his spine jammed upwards through the saddle, before I regained control and bit my lip. The trot had always been my least favorite gait of all, mainly because it involved the horse "bouncing" up and down as they walked, thus vastly increasing the anatomical discomfort for the rider –me– that naturally came with almost-but-not-quite doing the horizontal splits. _Fuck you, demon horse, you knew how hard this is for me._ I thought viciously, trying to meet the movements as I had been taught all those years ago, involuntary tears in my eyes. This _hurt_. As if hearing my thoughts, and definitely hearing my yelp, Dämon tossed his head again to view me with one sardonic eye.

 _What's the matter, human? Can't handle a simple trot?_

"I'm going to sell you to make _glue_." I hissed at the demon horse, adjusting my grip and flicking him into a canter. Despite this being a faster pace, there was no bouncing involved, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief (despite my wiser impulses) as his spine stopped meeting my pelvis every other stride. That sound was, of course, his cue to test my boundaries again, and he suddenly bucked, making me lurch forward and nearly break my nose on the back of his head. I mentally screamed curses at him with all my might as I fought him for control, before finally slumping in the saddle as he slowly cantered to a halt, both of us willing to take a brief rest. Then he decided that he wanted to canter again, and push my control for a gallop.

 _I swear to god, I'm going to get Sebastian for this if it kills me._

 _ **1.47 PM, USA Central Time**_


	18. That Butler, Pony Show

**_Minor disclaimer, I have actually only ridden a horse like twice, so take anything I say with a pinch of salt. Two pairs of cousins on both sides of the family are total horse geeks though, and oddly enough horses get talked about a lot in fantasy books, so that's where I'm drawing my knowledge from. Just to make sure nobody actually believes I'm an expert on the subject. Hey_** _BlackFireOx **, nice to see ya again. About the scars, actually no. People did things to cause scars back then, and Sebastian confirmed to Ciel that Arya literally fell out of the sky and into the Thames. So they honestly wouldn't care. Ciel might not even notice, because the only visible one would be the cut on her neck, and even then most of the time it would be covered by her dress collar. Remember, people dressed very conservatively back then, and all of the big scars are very near to the center of her body. The only ones that aren't are her fingers, and there were plenty of plausible reasons in the 1880s why someone would lose their fingernails. Remember, nobody makes much of it that Ciel himself has allegedly lost an eye or that Joker and the other circus members had missing limbs. Physical injury was very common back then, especially for the poorer classes who couldn't afford medical care. (Whereas nowadays anybody walking around with half their face missing would be rather suspicious.) Thank you** WriterGreenReads **, I try my best. Fun fact, selling a horse to "make glue" basically meant that they would be slaughtered and used to make a variety of products, including glue (usually by using the hooves). Culled means killed, usually in reference to domesticated animals. "Place down the way" is a reference to both of these actions. So, you know, there's that. Dämon is also literally German for demon, hence Arya's nickname.**_

 ** _April 7, 2016_**

Arya's POV:

"…ss."

 _Nope, I'm asleep._

"…iss…"

 _La la la, I can't hear you~_

"…iss!"

 _I'm sorry, but the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Please hang up and fuck the fuck off._

"MISS!"

I groaned like a lost soul being dragged, piece by piece, from the grave, pulling my face up from the nice, soft, heavenly cushy pillow. "Mey-rin, what'd I tell you 'bout waking me up?" I slurred as the bright colors of the world busily stabbed into my eyeballs, the blur in front of me resolving into the face of the worried maid. "It's almost noon, Miss Aryana. You've been asleep since 22.00 yesterday, yes you have." she squeaked worriedly.

Well, that explained why I was so hungry.

"And I'm gonna keep doin' it. Go 'way." I mumbled, pulling the covers up over my head. While doing so I unthinkingly exposed my bruised and battered arms, and heard her gasp. Since I had explained (whined) about the demonic horse I was attempting to ride last night at dinner with the other servants, she luckily didn't immediately assume the worst, but she did continue fluttering over me in concern. "That's a horribly behaved horse, yes he is!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Throwing you off all the time! He should be culled!"

"Horses do that," I groaned sleepily into the pillow, cursing myself for not keeping my own stupid mouth shut. If I'd kept quiet, she might've lost interest and gone away. "They test who's in charge. It's not bad behavior, it's me being an idiot and trying to tackle Mount Everest when I barely know how to climb. You don't let novices ride a horse like that, you let experts. They like the challenge, and the horse likes the contest."

 _Though I would not complain if Mister Demon was sold to the place down the way._

"Hmm…" Mey-rin mumbled, her tone clearly letting me know that she did not approve of bucking horses no matter what their motivation was. She then returned to her attempts in getting me to wake up and I resumed cursing her to places that good Victorian women were not supposed to be able to reference. "Come along miss, some tea will wake you right up!" she said with false cheer, gently shaking my by the shoulder, and I buried my face with the pillow. "Go 'way."

"The sun is shining, it's a wonderful day, yes it is!"

"I'm dead."

"Don't take such a somber attitude, come along!"

"I'm deaaad."

"Everything gets better with time, you shouldn't be such a grouch!"

I gritted my teeth and pulled the pillow down around my ears. " _Vaffanculo!_ "

"Eh?! That's sounds like Italian, Miss Aryana! What does it mean?"

I admitted defeat and pulled the blankets down from my head, glaring blearily at her. "Just hope you never find out. Also, never say that in the presence of an Italian." I told her groggily, and she blinked twice. "Eh?" she asked in confusion, and I slowly rolled –literally– out of bed. "Why 'm I even still asleep? I mean, din' Sebastian or Ciel want me for something?" I asked, rubbing the corner of my eyes, and she shrugged helplessly. "Mister Sebastian did say something about your French teacher coming in at 14.00."

I struggled to comprehend that for a few moments. "…that's like three in the afternoon in American time, right?" I finally mumbled, and she shifted, counting it all out on her fingers as I slowly sat up, slumped over slightly and trying to muster up the energy to live. "Actually, it's two, miss." she said apologetically, and I grunted in answer. My body was still sore all over, despite the long night of sleep and a labor-intensive hot soak that I had prior to sleeping. I'd had to carry up multiple cans of boiling water to the tub, which in retrospect had probably not done my sore muscles any favors. (Which was the whole point of the bath in the first place, so yay me for organized thinking after about four hours of being bucked off an equine mass of pure evil.)

"…gimme some of your best gunpowder tea, and I'll see what I can do. " I mumbled as I pulled my hair behind my ears, and she brightened, scampering out of the room. I grabbed a brush and began laboriously raking it through my hair, trying to pummel my thoughts into some kind of order. They formed with glacial slowness as I slowly, creakily got to my feet, starting up my usual exercise routine. Immediately, about six or seven muscle groups screamed in protest, but I gritted my teeth and kept at it, slowly forcing them to respond without cramps. As anybody who did these things regularly knew, when your muscles were sore, the best thing to get them _un-_ sore was to work it off.

Mey-rin scampered back into the room as I was stretching my legs as far as I could, nearly doing the splits, with my elbows and upper arms resting on the wooden floor. "Erm…your tea is ready, Miss Aryana." she said uncertainly, and I looked up as I completed a full split, leaning forward with my weight mainly resting on my upper arms. "Gimme a sec." I squeaked with tears in my eyes, slowly straightening up and wincing as my inner thighs screamed in protest. "Ow."

"I'm not entirely certain you should be doing that, miss." she said as I got to my feet, taking the tea from her with a murmur of thanks and, after a cautionary sip, downing the entire cup in a few gulps. "It looks painful."

"That's sorta the idea." I said as I shivered slightly, the sugar and caffeine from the deliciously warm tea already taking effect as I handed her back the cup. I carefully bent backwards, placing my hands on the wooden floor, and began to arch my spine. "It's supposed to warm up my muscles and stretch them out, and that hurts." I explained as I stared at the wood, and she squeaked as I made a perfect U with my body, and I held it for a few seconds, before slowly sitting back up and straightening out. I formed a twisty pretzel shape with my arms and pulled, letting out a quiet groan of relief as my aching shoulder muscles were stretched and relaxed.

After I preformed my entire warm-up routine, I moved on to actually working out, building my strength and althetic ability. I would need every last bit I could muster to beat that horse, and besides, a little muscle never hurt anyone. Mey-rin had left before I had finished warming up, so I was left to do my push-ups, stomach crunches, and sit-ups in peace, without her blushing and averting her eyes from the "indecent" way I was exposing my legs. I didn't see anything wrong with it, I had pants on, and they were even baggy pants to boot. (Since they were old army fatigues from my dad, they were a few sizes too big for me, which was easily remedied by a belt.)

Once I had finally finished with all of my contortions and exercises, I went to the small wardrobe me and Mey-rin were sharing. It was mostly her clothes, at this point, since I had been too exhausted yesterday to do anything but drag my things to our room and collapse on the bed. I pulled out the dress Miss Nina had sewn for horseback riding, because today, the battle of wits between me and Dämon would definitely continue. I shrugged it on and tied my hair back, noticing as I did that I was running out of ponytails.

Yet another reason to figure out how to ride that beast.

For those who wonder, I was still going to carry through with riding Dämon, instead of choosing another horse. Why? Well, for one, just to rub it in Sebastian's face when (if) I finally mastered him. For another, I was just as –if not more– stubborn than he was. Walking away now would mean that I found it too hard, which would mean that Dämon, a _horse_ , had beaten me. I had faced off sociopaths and immortal psychos all by myself; one non-sentient (albeit pure evil) equine was _nothing_ compared to that.

At least in theory. Stupid horse.

I quickly fixed something up for breakfast…er, lunch…um, food…in the kitchen, ignoring Sebastian –who was cleaning up after everyone else's lunch— as he ignored me, bolting down my food as fast as I possibly could to escape his presence. While I was now fairly certain he wouldn't harm me, Sebastian was still scary as hell, pun not intended. I then quickly piled my plates beside the non-clean ones and set out for the outside, threading my way imperfectly through the huge, echoing manor. After about ten minutes of wandering, I finally found an outside door, and I wrapped the scarf I had borrowed from Mey-rin around my face and set off across the grounds, the powdery snow crunching under my feet as I pulled off my hair tie in retrospect, wanting to keep my ears warm.

It took yet another ten minutes of wandering to find where the stables were, and I cursed the hugeness of Ciel's mansion. Honestly, what was wrong with having a smaller, cozier sort of manor, like the one Britain himself owned and lived in? People could find their way around in those. _I_ could find my way around in those, which had been very lucky for me, because if I hadn't, I might've died. (It's a long story, but briefly imagine being chased around a mansion by a psychopath with magic. Do you want to know where everything is, or do you want to have no freaking clue? I knew where everything was, thus, I survived.)

I sighed in relief at the gust of warm air that rushed out to meet me when I opened the stable door, caused by the body heat of all the various horses within the building, and edged inside, putting my hair up again as I did. I foresaw that it would take a long, long time before I could lure Dämon out of the stables, and I didn't want my hair to get in the way. It'd been growing out lately, since I hadn't had the time or the opportunity to get it cut, and didn't have the skill or the materials to do it myself. It nearly reached past my shoulders.

It took a bit of looking, but I eventually found the stall of my enemy, the spawn of Satan, the most evil equine mass upon this earth, Dämon. He was calmly eating some hay and oats, and looked up as I approached. He whickered and lowered his head again as I grabbed some apples from the nearby barrel, continuing to munch on his foodstuffs. _I bet you're real sore after trying to tangle with me, aren't you, rookie?_

I decided to ignore the fact I was making up speech patterns for his random movements. The horse was a smartass. Case closed. "Yeah, it's me again. Ready for round two?" I muttered as I grabbed his bit and bridle, glaring at him challengingly. He tossed his steel grey mane and turned his head slightly to look at me with one darkened eye. _And just what, **rookie** , are you planning to do with that?_ He seemed to say, and I stuck my tongue out at him. In truth, I was a bit nervous for this part, but I couldn't show that or else I was doomed. Horses could sense weakness, and temperamental ones often took weakness as a sign to misbehave –or bite.

I hopped over the edge of his stall and approached him, and his ears flicked backwards. _Bad sign._ I thought as a hint of sweat gathered on my palms, and I gulped and smiled nervously. "Nice horsie." I squeaked, reaching up to scratch his mane. His ears flicked back further at my movement and for a second I thought he was either going to bite me or rear, but as I began to scratch, they slowly settled upright again. He snorted and leaned against me as I wheezed and staggered back against the wooden wall, nearly crushing my lungs. Dämon snorted and tossed his head impatiently as I instantly stopped scratching him in favor of trying to shove him away so I could breathe. _Did I give you permission to stop, peasant?_

"Well _excuse_ me." I muttered under my breath, continuing to scratch at whatever parts of him seemed itchy as the giant animal resumed leaning against me like a purring, contented cat. Only this "cat" was at least three times my weight, and if he didn't get off of me soon, I was going to pop a lung. With threats, shoves with my free hand, and muttered curses, I finally seemed to manage to make him understand this, and he leaned away from me as I sucked in a huge, grateful gasp of air. Still scratching, I took the chance offered to me and looped the bridle over his nose, gently pushing the bit at his mouth. Dämon seemed in a cooperative mood after his scratch and let me fit the bit between his teeth before I somewhat hastily withdrew my hand, fitting the rest of the bridle over his head and letting out a sigh of relief when I finally managed it. I had gotten more than my fare share of horse bites when bridling, and I had a funny feeling that Dämon's bite would _hurt_.

I stopped scratching and ignored Dämon's whinny of protest, vaulting back over the stall wall and grabbing his saddle. This time I opened the stall door, mostly because I couldn't lift the saddle over the walls, and quickly grabbed the reins, preparing to drag the stubborn horse out of the stall if it killed me. I was instantly surprised, and instantly suspicious, when Dämon immediately and docilely followed my tug on the reins, clopping along behind me until I got to one of the tying posts and knotted the reins around it. I eyed him warily as I edged around his body to get the saddle, and he stared at me with one innocent black eye. _I **can** behave myself, you know. _

"Whatever you say, hoss." I muttered under my breath, throwing the saddle over his back. He curveted slightly at the sudden movement and weight, and I gulped, quickly fishing in my pocket for an apple and handing it to Dämon to keep him occupied. He took it and began crunching energetically, once more a calm and docile beast. Supposedly. He turned one black eye to watch me as I grabbed the straps, shifting a little bit until I turned my head and glared at him. Clearly, he would only be calm and obedient when I proved to him that I actually knew what I was doing; I'd proved that I knew how to handle him, if only slightly, so he went along with my plans, for now.

The emphasis on the "for now" part was pretty obvious.

I sighed and yanked the girth tight, then noticed that he had taken in a deep breath. I glared at Dämon and kneed his belly –as a 900 pound animal, it didn't hurt him one little bit, but he _did_ blow out the air in his lungs, leaving the girth strap several sizes too loose. "So, you're one of _those_ horses." I muttered as I yanked the strap properly tight, hearing him whicker in amusement. Some horses would intentionally take and hold deep breathes before they were saddled, which would make the saddle a lot looser and more comfortable for them when they started breathing normally again. Unfortunately, since the strap holding the saddle down wasn't tight, it also made the saddle loose and liable to dump the rider, which was why most horses were trained out of doing it. Dämon, being a noble's horse, had also probably been trained not to do that, but, like most horses, he was pretty smart and knew exactly what he could or could not get away with. He would never have pulled these hijinks with an experienced rider, the kind that would usually handle him, but then again, I wasn't an experienced rider.

I jerked all of the various straps, making sure they were good, before undoing the knot on the reins and starting to lead him outside. Dämon dragged his hooves for a few steps, just to see what I would do, and I gave a firm jerk on the reins. "I'm out of practice, not an idiot." I sneered over my shoulder, and he blew a wad of spit onto my dress. _Bite me, small human._

"I have more apples, you know, and you ain't getting them unless you play nice." I told him, and his ears pricked up at the word "apple".

 _You have my full attention, oh most wonderful and worshipful master._

"Suck-up."

 _You're the one resorting to bribery._

"Shut it."

 _I'm a horse, oh most clueless human. I haven't said anything._

 _***Time Skip***_

" _Recht! Recht!_ "

Dämon whirled to his right as I nudged him with the reins, and despite my throbbing muscles, I felt a thrill of adrenaline and joy. He was actually obeying simple commands now, most of the time, although he still occasionally fought me for dominance. He'd thrown me several times today during those spats, but he didn't duck away so often when I grabbed for the reins, and he hadn't bucked me off once. With the help of apples, curse words, and mental power we were improving, slowly but surely. It probably wouldn't be more than a few weeks before I could trust him on an open trail.

I tugged hard on the reins, slowing him down, as we approached the stables. I'd figured out early on that he had a hard mouth, so luckily I hadn't hurt him when I sawed back full-force on the reins those first few times. I had also inadvertently discovered –when I fell off and began cursing him– that Dämon responded better when I spoke in German instead of English. Go figure. I guess ancestral surroundings and training had carried over, even when he was moved to England.

" _You'd probably accept bribes of beer instead of apples, wouldn't you?_ " I mumbled, remembering Germany and Prussia from the world of Hetalia, and Dämon's ears flicked backwards to hear the German I spoke. He whinnied and shook his mane, although I couldn't tell if it was agreement or derision. I grinned slightly. "Well, you're a nice horse anyway." I said, reaching forward to scratch behind his ears. "You just have to remember it."

He promptly neighed and bucked me off into the mud.

Something poetic about trusting to soon in that, I figured.

 _ **12.17 PM, USA Central Time**_


	19. That Butler, Sneaking Feeling

_**Heyo, it's me again. I've got good news and bad news for everyone. The good news is that I passed my driving test on the first try and got my driver's license, so I can now legally drive…alone. No adults in the car. (Hells yes.) The bad news is that means that my parents have to add me to the insurance roster, which is apparently hella expensive. We get a multiple hundred-dollar discount if I have Bs in all my classes, so I have been "politely encouraged" to get my grades up** or else **. For curious minds, I have an A- in Drawing, a solid C in AP Language, a D- in Intro to Anatomy, a B+ in AP European History, and a D+ in German 3. So I may not update for a while as I frantically fix all of that. I also apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I had to get SOMETHING out.**_

 _ **May 20, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

With a dull and pounding head, I shuffled through the books in Ciel's library, mindlessly sorting out the French from the Latin, Greek, and who-knew-what-the-hell-else. After Dämon had thrown me for the umpteenth time and gotten mud all over my dress, I had barely had the time to run back upstairs, change, shove my dirty dress into Mey-rin's hands, and streak back downstairs to meet my French teacher, who made her opinion on my being late quite clear throughout our long, excruciating session of pronunciation and grammar. I hadn't realized how lucky I was, when learning German and Italian, that I had the actual countries themselves teaching me; they made everything seem so _simple_.

After multiple hours of trying to pummel my brain into any kind of complacency and relying heavily on that little extra sharpness the pixies had granted me –I swore I was going to feed them a cake made of pure sugar by the time this was through– Madame Dufour finally dismissed me and I had staggered back towards the kitchen and eaten whatever conception Sebastian had cooked up for the servants, before trying my best to ignore my developing migraine and slouching back up to the library to sort out the books I knew would have something on magic, bringing my journal along with in case the need to take notes would arise.

And so here I was. Occasionally I'd flick open a volume and page through it, trying to find out the subject so I could decide whether or not I'd actually need it, but at the moment I was mainly just trying not to fall over and die. And focus at the same time. Meh.

 _Clunk._

 _***Time Skip***_

 _Creeeeeeeeaaaaak…_

"…zzz-!"

I jerked awake at the slow groan of wood on wood and blinked groggily, realizing that I had fallen asleep at the table in a most uncomfortable position, my chin tucked over one folded arm and the other stretched out across the table, my cheek uncomfortably resting against some 15th-century jerkface's idea of leather binding and my journal a few inches from falling over the edge of the table. The room was dark and I vainly sought to discern what the creaking noise had come from, my hand sneakily sliding down to my hip, where my Colt was holstered.

"Sebastian?" I asked aloud, hiding my nervousness and hoping that this was just his idea of a joke. Or prank. Or whatever.

No answer.

I shoved the chair back with my knees, coming to my feet and whirling at the same time as I yanked my Colt out. The heavy wooden crashed back onto the floor with a loud bang as I aimed the gun towards an empire library, my heart pounding in my chest.

Nothing.

 _Okay, it's an old house. It creaks, it shifts, that's a basic rule of physics and architecture._ I thought to myself, my heart pounding against my ribs as my hands trembled ever so slightly. _That noise you heard was probably nothing. It was almost certainly nothing. If it wasn't nothing it was someone closing the door that you forgot to close. If it wasn't that it was Sebastian being an asshole._

The mental litany didn't help. My nerves were jumping all over the place and despite my logical reassurances, every muscle in my body was tense, fully expecting to be hexed or stabbed at any given moment. My mind was vibrating between fight and flight and despite my finger on the trigger of the Colt my brain was shrieking at me that flight was currently the better of the two options. I didn't even know what I was so scared of, all I knew was that something wasn't right here, and the only "not right" I knew of –Ciel hadn't left for the circus yet and Lizzy wasn't staying over– was someone whom I would willingly stab out my own eyes rather than meet again.

"…liv…"

I swallowed hard and licked my lips, my voice a thin, squeaky, humiliating thread of its former self.

"…Oliver?" I whispered hoarsely to the darkness, my whole body tensing up.

No answ-

Handonmyshoulderholy _fuck_!

A shriek froze in my throat as I slammed my foot back and whirled, firing upon sight.

 **BANG!**

I stared at the man standing before me, my nerves calming down slightly, although my body was still quivering as the candles on the far wall flared up. He was probably going to kill me for this, although to be honest it would be an extreme improvement over _him_.

"Boy am I glad to see you."

Sebastian, blood trailing down his throat from a hole somewhere under his chin, gave me a deeply unamused look before he turned and spat out a mangled, blood-soaked bullet onto the floorboards. "I must congratulate you on your aim, Miss Thompson. Anyone else would have been killed." he said as he looked at me again and wiped a small trickle of blood from his lips with his thumb. "But a Phantomhive butler-"

" _Could of course survive a gunshot of this magnitude_ or something stupid like that, yadda yadda yadda. I get it." I said grumpily, storing my Colt back in its holster. "You must'a knocked thirty years off my life with that little stunt of yours. Why didn't you respond when I asked if it was you?"

Sebastian flourished his silver pocketwatch with a slight, smug smirk. "Your official curfew was several hours ago, Miss Thompson. What were you still doing up?" he asked me sweetly, and I glared at him, rubbing the drowsiness out of the corner of one eye.

"I was sleeping." I muttered as I grabbed my journal from the table, then folded my hands in prayer position over my nose and took a few deep breathes, trying to calm my racing pulse. "Do me a favor Jeeves; dangle me over hot chimneys, use me for target practice, play a thousand and one petty pranks and tricks, but don't ever, _ever_ sneak up on me again."

Sebastian raised one perfectly groomed black eyebrow at me. "Would this have anything to do with the "Oliver" you spoke of?" he asked, a slight undertone of wicked humor in his voice. He had seen me freak out, after all, and, presumably like any demon from this world, seeing a vulnerable magician was _hilarious_ to him.

I did not bother to respond, instead increasing the intensity of my glare. His lips twitched slightly in what I knew would have been a smirk if he hadn't been such a well-mannered butler, and he bowed, gesturing towards the door. "If I may escort you to your rooms?"

"Do I get a choice?" I muttered under my breath, stalking past him in ill humor with my journal tucked under my arm.

"I could drag you." he offered quietly from behind me, and I didn't need eyes in the back of my head to know that he was once more smiling as angelically as a man could smile.

 _Demonic bastard. I thought we had a truce going._

 _3rd Person POV:_

"So?" Ciel asked Sebastian expectantly, holding out his arms as he stared into the mirror before him. The demonic butler was currently preparing him for bed, and Ciel stood patiently as Sebastian helped him into his nightshirt.

"She is indeed a novice, as far as I can tell." the butler said after a few moments, buttoning up his collar. "Most magicians would probe the area or attack with magic if they felt uneasy; Miss Thompson reached for a gun."

Ciel felt a brief twinge of surprise as he untied his eyepatch on his own, revealing his Faustian contract. "She has a gun?" he muttered as he placed it on the side table for the next day.

"A Colt Single-Action revolver, popular with the American army." Sebastian elaborated as he turned back the covers. "Her aim with it at close range is impeccable, however I doubt that she has been using it as a personal weapon for very long."

"How so?"

"Her grips is inexperienced, although technically correct. Given her comments about living with a militaristic benefactor, we can assume that is where she learned." the demon answered blandly, refilling the water jug.

"Hmm." Ciel clicked his tongue thoughtfully as he climbed into bed. "It's interesting that she fired without waiting to see if you were an enemy or not. While it could have been excused on the basis that any normal person would have revealed themselves at the sight of the gun, the possibility exists that she would have killed you had you been anyone else."

Sebastian handed him his bedtime tea, and he took a sip. Ceylon.

"Combining all this evidence with the fact she mentioned an "Oliver" in connection to an overt mental threat, it seems obvious that she has had some kind of inimical experience with the supernatural in her so-called previous world. We can use that." he finished with a content sigh, pleased with his ability to deduct.

"It is equally possible that this "Oliver" was another magician, my lord." Sebastian observed diffidently from beside the bed, holding out the tea tray as per his duties. "From my knowledge, magicians often squabble amongst themselves, and Oliver is an English name."

"Well, it's mostly irrelevant anyway." Ciel said peevishly, handing Sebastian the empty cup. "What I want to know is this; is she or is she not a threat?"

Sebastian placed tea cup on the tray before answering. "It is my sincere belief, young lord, that she will not seek to harm us unless we threaten her first. Her main focus is to return to her proper plane of existence and she will need the financial and political support of a noble to reach the necessary level of learning. If we are placed in a compromising situation, she will almost certainly take our side out of sheer familiarity, if nothing else."

Ciel smirked. "Well then. A magician will be a useful thing to have as the Queen's Guard Dog, won't it?"

 _ **1.00 PM, USA Central Time**_


	20. That Butler, London (Part 1)

_**It has come to my attention (thank you**_ _Guest_ _ **, by the way) that there are people reading this that haven't actually read the previous fic,** The Trekker **. Since references like the one in last chapter would then thusly be perplexing, I'll do my best to explain. Oliver Kirkland is the name of Britain's (Arya's teacher) evil alter ego, who has many of Britain's powers and appears physically similar. He and Arya became nemesis's (What's the plural of nemesis? I wonder.) when she foiled his plot to take over her teacher, Britain, and she was imprisoned and tortured by him several times. (He's the indirect cause of almost all of her scars, and the direct cause of her lost fingernails.) He and his allies were banished to a far-off dimension at the end of the fic, although it is an assumed possibility that he may be able to eventually return in a few hundred/thousand years with his magic. Since he is an infinitely stronger magician than Arya, as well as a cannibal, expert poisoner, and psychopath, one of Arya's biggest fears is him showing up while she is still alive. The fact that as a personification of a country she would be unable to kill him (and he's supernaturally strong because of his status) is also not exactly helpful. Also, about Arya's threat to Dämon, for a very long time in history animals were considered as little more than mindless meat-puppets incapable of actually feeling pain. Thusly animal abuse was traditionally nonexistent, since animals were not "mentally capable" of suffering. This is of course ridiculous, but hey, a lot of things back then were. Speaking of, despite the seeming smallness of the number, Arya's salary is actually worth roughly £1,200 in modern British pounds –money was worth a lot more back then. There's also an Easter egg in Arya's shopping list. I hope it isn't too obvious. And before I forget, this chapter sort of ran away with me on length, so I hope nobody minds. Ah who am I kidding, you're all probably happy about that. I actually had to eventually split it in half.**_

 _ **September 7, 2016**_

 _Arya's POV:_

"Alright you equine fucker." I snarled, holding Dämon tightly by the bridle as he whinnied innocently and shook his head the tiniest bit. "Let's get one thing straight. I have been bucked from here to kingdom come by your antics and I am not gonna stand for it any longer. You listen to me or I am gonna learn you a thing in _pre-Enlightenment animal cruelty_."

Dämon snorted thoughtfully and pawed at the ground with a hoof as I blew a strand of hair out of my face and waited for him to respond. I'd been doing this for almost a solid month, and had to re-commission another horse-riding dress from Miss Nina because _someone_ wore out my first one until it literally looked like mud-covered rags. Enough was enough. Confrontation was warranted.

Dämon finally whickered low in his throat and lipped at my hand, and I sighed and scratched between his ears. " _Come on, you should trust me by now. I'm a good rider, aren't I?_ " I murmured coaxingly in German, and he butted his forehead against my chest. After multiple weeks of proving my stubbornness, intelligence, and practical skullduggery, we had somewhat reached a mutual understanding.

I slowly grabbed the reins and stretched my foot out behind me, waiting for the snort of disapproval. I had gotten permission from Ciel to ride Dämon into London today, so now the only thing to do was actually convince the horse and then go. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy…in theory. Just because he had become marginally more tractable in these past few weeks didn't mean that Dämon would actually listen to me.

However, when I tugged on the reins and slid the rest of my body backwards to rest on my foot, he followed somewhat eagerly, and I grabbed the strap of the rucksack Ciel had given me –tied around my back– and pulled the buckle tight with my teeth, my right hand currently occupied with Dämon's reins. I had £20 in small bills –my monthly salary– inside the sack, my hair was tied back, and I was wearing my snuggly warm Russian coat. All in all, I was completely prepared for an outing to London. I'd have to stay over a couple nights, which I could tell Ciel was slightly unhappy about, but there wasn't much he could do about it, short of asking Sebastian to tail me. This would be something of a test on their part, to see if I conducted myself properly in the absence of Mister Tall Dark and Demonic.

Swinging my leg over Dämon's back, I looked up at the cold, grey sky. Despite the fact that it was now tending towards the end of January, the snow on the ground had already mostly melted, although the mud occasionally re-froze on the chillier days, which made for hard, painful ground. Luckily today was one of the wetter days, although still fully as cold as British springtime could get, and I ran over my mental list again as I kicked Dämon into a canter and we shot off across the grounds. _A hat or earmuffs for winter, warm gloves, something to tie my hair with, books on magic, a haircut. Buy more ammunition for the Colt, see about martial artist or combat instructors. Renew and replace non-perishables in apocalypse bag. A better knife and sheath for self defense and survival needs…_

I'd have to see about taking fencing lessons with Ciel or Sebastian. Or someone else. Preferably someone else. While they were completely awesome and entertaining to watch when one was safely separated by reality and a computer screen, Ciel was unsettling and Sebastian was terrifying to deal with in real life. Despite the fact that I technically was under Ciel's employ and lived in the same mansion, I tried to avoid him and dearest darling-est Bassy as much as possible.

 _Which reminds me…_

As far as I knew, Grell wasn't going to show up until the Campania arc, which happened sometime vaguely before summer. I was somewhat grateful for that, as it was exceedingly hard to deal with him even when he was a fictional character and now that I would actually be able to interact with him, he would most likely become impossible. I'd never really seen him interact with a female besides Madame Red (whom I most assuredly did not want to end up like, thank you very much), but with his penchant for being off-the-cuff, anything between bitter animosity and outright BFF-attempts was possible. Trying to plan out all the possibilities that spun off how he dealt with me and I dealt with him and Sebastian and Ciel's attitude on me dealing with him and him dealing with me…it gave me a major headache.

Planning for ever contingency was tiring in this verse.

 _***Time Skip***_

"A'right, so you just, um, like, stay here." I said awkwardly, leading Dämon into the stable of Ciel's townhouse and closing the stall behind us. He whinnied and eyed the wooden door contemplatively as I loosened the saddle girths, as if debating whether or not it would hold up to his strength if he decided to kick it down and go galloping across the London streets. I glared at him and jerked on his reins. " _Behave, or no more apples._ " I told him in German, and he snorted incredulously and bent his head, starting to munch on the hay that came free with the stall. _How dare you imply that I, the horse of a nobleman, would be so lowly as to go gallivanting across some stupid city. The nerve of some people. My honor has been smirched beyond repair._

"Yeah, yeah. Sass mouth." I muttered under my breath, giving him a scratch behind the ears as he pawed his hoof against the cobblestones. Soma and Agni has been happy to see me, at least, and Agni had handed me a helpful list of directions towards all the various establishments I'd need to visit before I'd led Dämon down to the stables.

"Behave now, y'hear?" I called to Dämon as I left the stall, and he whickered in return. I ducked into the small room beside the stables –I didn't know nor care what it was for– took off my coat, hanging it by the door. My dress was already more or less free of wrinkles, so I didn't have to worry about brushing it down too much. Kicking my foot up on the tiny desk, I tightened the laces on my boots, and pushed down the small pocketknife tucked near the brim of the left one. I carefully adjusted the strap and holster for my Colt, which I planned to wear under my nice warm coat, and fingered the meager few rounds of ammunition I had left over. The person who'd originally given me the gun hadn't exactly given it to me with self-defense in mind, and the few ammunition rounds I had were given to me more out of "hey, if you wanna fire this old-fashioned gun, here's some bullets to show off to your friends" then for actual combat.

Oh well. There were enough for just about anything short of supernatural attack and/or a prolonged melee battle.

I twitched my collar straight, plunked on the stupid straw hat, and buttoned my coat back up, swinging the shopping bag that Agni had given me over my shoulder.

I was as ready as I'd ever be.

Waving goodbye to Soma and Agni, who were lurking about near one of the upstairs windows, and receiving a cheery farewell in return, I pulled out my list of directions as I stepped onto the London street. I was immediately assailed by the hustle and bustle of the other people around me, and tightened my fingers around the scrap of paper, glancing up at the street sign before looking back down at the paper and hanging a right. The sidewalk was pretty crowded, as Ciel's, or rather the Phantomhive's, townhouse was right in the middle of an extremely posh neighborhood and the straight (but not necessarily wide) street was covered in horse-drawn carriages with various levels of ornateness and wealth. It was a better sort of crowded than certain other areas of London, wherein I'd have to keep a tight grip on my things for a very different reason indeed. Drawing closer to the wrought-iron railings at the side of the cobblestone path as I continued to walk, I flipped Agni's directions over to look at the list he'd written down in a careful, but clearly English-inexperienced scrawl.

 _Shopping List:_

 _Hopkins Tailor Shop (Hat & Mittens.)_

 _Covent Garden Market (Foodstuffs)_

 _Gifford's London Emporium (Hunting Knife & Bullets)_

 _Dunstan's Barber Shoppe (Haircut)_

I flipped it over again to look at the directions, scanning down to the street names by reflex before remembering that a GPS system was still several hundred years into the future.

 _(Hopkins Tailor Shop) 783 Saville Row_

 _(Convent Garden Market) Covent Garden Square_

 _(Gifford's London Emporium) 249 Maiden Avenue_

 _(Dunstan's Barber Shoppe) 186 Fleet Street_

I sighed, read over the directions to Miss Nina's shop again, then tucked the paper inside my pocket and picked up the pace. I hadn't really known to to frame the "I need books on magic" request to Agni, so I was missing a very important part of my list. I'd planned to visit a book store sometime during my stay in London, but it looked as if I was going to have to search it out myself. Oh well.

Despite how I would normally find people-watching an at least slightly creepy activity, I was actually having quite a bit of fun doing it here. Because, I mean, exactly how many people still living could say that they saw and walked along an authentic 19th-century London street with actual 19th-century people in the actual 19th century? I was watching history and doing something no still-living person had done in my world. Or rather my time. Eh, either way, I was still majorly geeking out. The accents, the clothing, even the atmosphere, all of it was at least slightly, if not majorly, different than the London I had visited with my magic teacher.

At least most of the streets were the same. Thank god for Europeans and their history-preserved-ness; even some hundred and fifty years in the future, I'd been able to walk along the same basic layout, if highly modernized and much less cramped.

I snarled something Italian and unflattering under my breath as another dude in a hurry nearly knocked me down, tightening my grip on my bag and directions and slanting my body as far away from the crowd as I could without getting pushed into the carriage-crowded street.

Yes, much less cramped.

 _***Time Skip***_

I looked up from the paper Agni had written out, seeing a neat, prim-looking shop with several suits hanging up in the front window, protected from robbery by an ornate iron fence. " _Hopkins, The Tailor_ " was written in two lines of fancy black scrollwork on the glass, and I walked around the showroom window to the right side of the shop, where the door was. Opening it, I was greeted by the sight of a cramped but tidy shop, with many swatches of fabric folded up on high shelves and neatly pressed clothing hung up on folding screens.

"Welcome to-"

"-the Hopkins's Tailor Shop!"

I jumped as I was suddenly –and glamorously– confronted by two women, both of whom bore an uncanny resemblance to WW1-era pinup girls, or something straight out of the pages of a Roaring Twenties advertisement. One even had the flapper haircut and everything.

 _Man, Nina doesn't even know how "ahead of the times" she is…_

I smiled awkwardly. "Er…hi…I need some mittens and a hat for winter weather, and I've come here before for wardrobe, so…" I trailed off uncertainly. Ah, social anxiety, how I have missed thee, how thine return at an inopportune time sucks ass.

Luckily, I wasn't left to wallow in awkwardness for very long. A door from farther inside the shop slammed open, and Nina whirled through the gap, eyes sparkling and several tape measures hanging from her shoulders. "Meg! Augusta! I heard the bell ring, do we have a customer?!"

The now-named assistants split to the side and gestured to me as I flinched and squeaked, waving awkwardly. "Erm, uh, hi again…"

Nina's eyes gleamed and she grabbed my hands with such enthusiasm she almost cut off my circulation. "Ah, Miss Thompson! Welcome to my humble shop!" she squealed, and I offered a hesitant smile. "Uh, yeah, sure." I agreed, then yanked one of my numb hands free and fished around in my pocket for my shopping list. "So, not to be rude or anything, but it's freezing around here. I need a winter hat, some gloves, and maybe a scarf?"

Nina pouted. "Goodness, such a trifling request." she sighed, then snapped her fingers briskly, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me off into the interior of the shop as her assistants began to scurry about the shop, apparently taking care of other orders. "And how are things for a fellow woman in the world of business?" she asked brightly as she began digging through an extensive collection of fabric, and I watched the variously-colored pieces fly everywhere behind her, hypnotized. I began to wonder just how her shop managed to stay in any kind of pristine shape.

"I've, uh, been doing fine I guess. Lots of accounting n' stuff."

"Wonderful!" Miss Nina flourished a sheet of orange fabric at me. "I don't have any hats in stock, but I can whip up a lovely scarf~! My assistants should be gathering up some gloves for you to try on as soon as they finish with orders." she said happily, laying the fabric on a sewing table and whipping her scissors across it in a blur. I blinked as she began tucking and folding and running the fabric under a old-timey sewing machine, humming to herself as she did. "You may not know this, but it's not very common for us English to wear hats in winter. Snoods and capes typically do the trick." she told me absently, breaking off from her humming.

"Oh…gotcha." I replied after a beat, blinking a few times as I mentally screamed to myself _What in the name of all things freakish and unholy is a snood?!_

"I guess I can just use the scarf as double-duty." I added, scratching my cheek nervously.

She beamed at me and whipped the now-finished scarf out from under her machine. " _Viola!_ Here you are! Try it on and I'll go see about the gloves."

Miss Nina stuffed the scarf in my hands and bustled out the door before I could get a word in edgewise, and I shrugged to myself, holding the length of orange fabric up and inspecting it. From what I could feel, it was warm and soft, and I wrapped it twice around my neck and flipped the ends over my shoulders. I then beamed and snuggled my chin into the fabric. _Hmm. Nice. I feel warmer already._

 _***Time Skip***_

Miss Nina had apparently refused to take payment from me due to the fact I was a Phantomhive employee –she'd take it out of Ciel's tab, which I wasn't sure he would be altogether pleased about. Then again, a scarf and a pair of warm gloves –black wool with fluffy stuff inside– weren't exactly high-cost items, and he was a very high-ranking nobleman. He probably wouldn't even notice if he wasn't such a micro-manager. Seriously, after living in the same house for a couple weeks, it was _no_ stretch _at all_ to imagine he could run his own business. That little brat had a method and schedule for every last second of his day, and although he did technically rely on Sebastian to make sure it ran smoothly, he'd still created the system himself and fully kept track of it.

 _Come children, let us repeat the mantra for protecting our egos. I refuse to accept that a twelve-year-old is smarter than me. I refuse to accept that a twelve-year-old is smarter than me. I refuse to accept that a twelve-year-old is smarter than me._

 _(Even though he is. Even though he is.)_

I groaned to myself, running a hand down my face and then frantically cursing as the carriage I had "hitched a ride" on hit a rut, and the whole contraption bounced like a trampoline as I desperately dropped my hand and clung onto the thin margin at the back, which was where an enterprising individual (like myself) could perch and ride upon the carriage without paying the quite frankly outrageous travel fee. I'd read about the trick in _Vampire Plagues: London, 1850_ , which is a lovely book about ancient Mayan curses and an apocalypse of vampires and smart-mouthed English Cockney pickpockets (from whom I had learned the carriage trick), the equally good sequels being _Paris, 1850_ and _Mexico, 1850_. What the book hadn't mentioned was the weird or disapproving looks the hitchhiker would get from the pedestrian populace, although that may have been due to the fact I'd hiked my dress up to my calves to prevent it getting caught in the back wheels. Or the fact that I was technically breaking a law/rule by hanging onto the back of the carriage without paying the driver any money.

Screw them, for all they knew I'd paid and just enjoyed hanging off the back like this.

I flicked out my shopping list from inside my dress and squinted at the street sign as the carriage turned a corner, bracing myself against the thin lip of wood so that I wouldn't fall off. It seemed as if my destination –Covent Garden Square and Market– was only a few streets away, and so with no little amount of relief, I stuffed the paper back into my dress, bunched it up in my hands, and scooted/leaped off the rattling carriage, stumbling a little at the contrast in speeds as I hit the ground. The very instant I recovered my balance I bolted to the side of the street and shoved my way onto the pavement, barely missing being hit by several other carriages as I did so.

 _Jaywalking has never been so eventful._

I brushed down the front of my dress, gave the people staring at me in horror a cheerful smile, and sauntered off down the street, hoisting my bag up a little higher on my shoulder as I did so. I didn't see what a _market_ might have for non-perishable food items, but it was always worth checking out. Granted, I hadn't needed to use any of the cans of soup or biscuits or bottled water that I had (yet), but still, it never hurt to prepare, and I knew the biscuits at least were _definitely_ starting to go stale. I could probably hammer nails with them if I tried hard enough.

I made a face as I rounded a corner and came out into the square, seeing the large crowd gathered around the various stalls of produce –definitely nothing that would go into my bag and not start rotting within a week. It was actually a bit jarring to see, as my magic teacher had taken me to the modern Covent Garden Square before, and I hadn't expected to see it more or less the same, if not much dingier and crowded. The market itself was centered inside a large building –which I had definitely not expected to be already built– and anyone who wanted to sell anything had set up stalls inside and around it; those fortunate (and wealthy) enough to buy or rent the rooms inside the building had tiny, open-front shops.

Still though, I tightened my grip on my bag and plunged into the crowd, keeping a wary eye out for pickpockets. I didn't know which districts were the which as far as crime (except for Soho and Whitechapel, both places to be avoided in the 19th and for all I knew the 21st century), so I wasn't sure that, if I did catch a pickpocket trying to steal my loose change, a policeman might actually come to take care of the situation or just ignore whatever wasn't a shout of murder. Crime enforcement was pretty lax in most areas of this era, part of the reason Jack the Ripper (in both verses) had been able to so easily do his work.

That and I was also uncertain of whether or not I could actually beat up any wayward street urchins trying to steal my stuff. They usually worked in groups, and while I could probably fend off one or two without too much force, if I was mobbed, I wasn't sure whether or not I'd end up accidentally hospitalizing them. And since none of the street rats in London had any money to pay for food, much less a doctor's bill –thus the reason that they were picking pockets– broken bones would probably end up being a death sentence.

So no, I didn't want to get into any fights.


	21. That Butler, London (Part 2)

_**Dun, dun, dun,**_ _ **BACK IN BLACK, I HIT THE SACK, I'VE BEEN TOO LONG I'M GLAD TO BE BACK! (In other words,**_ _ **friendly greetings from your late-ass Minnesotan fanfic author.) A thousand and one apologies, guys, writer's block is a bitch. This sort of thing may or may not happen more frequently, since Black Butler, as I have mentioned many times before, really isn't my cup of tea as far as writing goes. Watching? Eh. Reading the manga? Yeah. But writing fanfiction n' stuff? Eck. *cringe* I'll do my damn best though, ya'll can be sure of that,**_ _Gal_ _ **.**_ _Singular Poisonous Ashes_ _ **, hello again, and I'm sorry, but I can't put Lau in unless he naturally occurs in the general area Arya exists in. Trust me, he's very amusing and I wish I could chuck him in there too. God knows there can never be too much humor in my fics. Excuses and replies over, let's start with news. Second trimester of senior year is almost over, so there's that. I went to a couple cons, I got a new job (again, why does lifeguarding have to be so damn** seasonal **?), I have applied for my after-school path of choice (two years, community college) and been accepted, and, um…yeah, that's about it. Casually picked up learning Theban and Latin because why the heck not. I probably won't retain anything worth knowing, but hey, at least it's something I can brag about trying to learn. Also, I posted another 2p!Hetalia story so if anyone here is a fan of the prequel to this then by all means please go and have a look-see.**_

 _ **February 13th, 2017**_

 _Arya's POV:_

 _Well, that was a waste of time._ I thought irritably, shouldering my bag as I stalked through the streets. Like I had suspected, all of the foodstuffs in the market were fruits, vegetables, and meat, various things that would turn rancid and rotten within less than a week, even inside my infinitely-expanded apocalypse bag. I had managed to snag a few rolls of hard bread, which would last a lot longer, but were still probably a bad idea to leave in my bag for too long.

I let out a long, drawn-out sigh as I pushed open the door to the weapons shop, letting out a shiver of relief at the gust of warm air. The sun was starting to set, even though it was probably only around three or four in the afternoon, and the wintery air in London was consequently getting even more chilly. The scarf Miss Nina had given me was a big help though, likewise the warm, wool-lined mittens.

The shop was exceedingly interesting. It was small, and cramped, like most European buildings, and largely made of wood, with counters and tables packed closely against the walls and each other. Light spilled from a few lanterns hung from the low ceiling, offering a counter to the rapidly setting sun. Knives, guns, and swords were hung everywhere, ranging from the mundane to the exotic, and I realized with interest that this definitely wasn't an average dealer. A lot of the weapons here were worth serious money, probably worth a fortune to the lower classes, and sadly, not a lot of shopkeepers in this era could afford alternative methods of lighting. When the sun went down, they closed up shop.

Luckily for me, I was not only employed by a nobleman, but I was a member of the upper-middle class –in this verse– in my own right, and could afford the products here.

Like most other shops in this day and age, I was welcome to pick up whatever I wanted, inspect it, and maybe even make a few passes with it before I went to the counter to buy. I ignored the guns and swords –my Colt was a familiar weapon, and I likely wouldn't be able to get anything more modern than it here, and although having a sword was tempting, since I didn't know how to use one it'd be a waste of money– and instead focused on the knives. I already had one for fighting, my Japanese single-edged _tanto_ , but it was thin and a bit…fragile, for any kind of extended dueling and/or survivalist needs. I needed something with a bit more substance.

I picked up a machete and swung it around for a few seconds, then made a face and put it down again. _Too long._

I spotted a neatly stacked pile of boxes –each about the size of a small, travel-sized paperback– and walked over, seeing that they were, as I had suspected, boxes of ammunition. My Colt took .45 rounds and nothing bigger, and I shuffled through the boxes, looking for the appropriate label. Given my apparent tendency to become a magnet for trouble, I figured that it'd be best for me to take as many boxes of ammo as possible.

I found six and quickly stacked them up in my arms –years of excessive library-frequenting had given me a lot of practice in balancing square objects– and strolled over to the counter. The middle-aged man behind it was comfortably rounded and had a neatly trimmed black beard, which I had expected. Someone who ran a shop like this wasn't going to be sleazy or slack. "Six boxes of .45 ammunition, and d'you have any hunting or survival knives I could buy?" I asked briskly, and he looked up. There was the expected double-take at a woman doing…well, anything, but he recovered quickly. A sale was a sale, after all.

"We have some." he replied simply, with a faint accent that I couldn't place –something eastern-European– and stood up, revealing a utilitarian suit in some kind of dark, tough material, much less ornate than Ciel's and much simpler than Sebastian's. I was wearing one of the business dresses Miss Nina had seen for me under my tan winter coat, dark green and with a lot less frills and lace than one of of the more formal ones. I'd kept the bright orange scarf and dark brown mittens on for purposes of warmth. I knew I looked prosperous, at the very least, and wealthy at the very best. After all, Ciel had all _his_ clothing sewn by Miss Nina too.

The shopkeeper pulled a long, low box out from underneath one of the tables and laid it on the counter, pulling the top off to reveal a neat row of large hunting knives, gleaming dully in the light of the lanterns, their sheaths laid straight beside them. They were all roughly six or seven inches long, the blades slightly curved. Some had serrated edges, others had odd, rounded points. I vaguely remembered that rounded tips were sometimes put on hunting knives to avoid the hunter ripping the hide of the animals he skinned.

I, however, was looking for something else; any traditionally-shaped knife that I could comfortably wield, with a crosspiece. If and when I ever needed to use a knife in self defense, it needed to be heavy enough that I could actually cause damage with my somewhat lackluster ability to swing a blade –which a pocketknife or a folding knife wouldn't be able to do– and a crosspiece (the two small arms above the handle that turned a blade from a stick into a T) to protect my fingers from anyone who attempted to strike me back, their knife hitting the blade of my knife and then sliding down –where, without the crosspiece, they would promptly cut my fingers off.

And, of course, I wanted the knife to be sharp.

I picked up a small black Bowie knife. The blade was slightly curved and about the length of my elbow to my wrist. I touched the edge with my thumb and discovered that yes, it was sharp, and licked the blood away before looking up at the shopkeeper. "How much is this?" I asked politely, and he plucked the sheath from the box before closing it and replacing it beneath the table.

"Five pounds." he said carefully, and I nodded and dug the money out of my bag, before stuffing the knife into an outside pocket and slinging it over my shoulder.

"Thank you!" I told him cheerfully, before I swung the slightly creaky door shut behind me and turned into the street. The frigid wind struck me with enough force to make my eyes water, bringing with it the scent of snow and melting ice, and I quickly buried my nose in my scarf, shivering hard. My last destination was nearly halfway across town, and the thought of walking there in this cold made my cringe. So I did what any cityslicker would do.

Putting my fingers to my mouth, I gave the loudest, most piercing whistle that I could muster –which, I'll admit with some pride, was quite loud. "HEY! TAXI!"

It occurred to me a few seconds later that the colloquial term "taxi" may not be in use yet, or at least not in use in England, even though they had horse-drawn carriages that served the same purpose. I was about to draw breath for another shout, reworded, but then I saw one of the two-wheeled carriages traveling towards me. Apparently the terminology was not important; it was the whistle and the shout that did it.

Most probably the whistle.

"I'd like transportation to Fleet Street, _s'il vous plaît_." I told the driver as I preemptively grabbed the handle to haul myself in. The driver, who looked to be nothing more than a large bundle of insulating fabric and mittens, nodded a few times with his breath steaming in the air before him.

"Five bob, an' I'll get you there afore dark." he said briskly with an indescribably thick Cockney accent, and I stared blankly at him for a few seconds. My time with Britain had taught me a few of the English people's slang terms –especially curse words– so I could vaguely understand what he'd said, but my money terminology was a bit off. I thought for a few seconds as the cold bit into my nose and ears and probed at the edges of my coat. Considering how money seemed to be worth a lot more in this day and age, I figured that "five bob" was probably something below a single pound in value.

I quickly fished some coins out of my pocket and stirred them around, looking for the ten-pence denominations. Shoving them into his hand, I clambered up into the hansom, settling my skirts around me as I sat down. I was actually getting pretty used to wearing dresses with such long skirts and bits of lace and ruffles everywhere, insofar as to the fact that I didn't get anything caught anywhere anymore, and I could usually move around and settle my clothing fairly easily. Nothing within the power of this world could convince me to wear a corset or any of their other unnecessarily complicated undergarments, though. The hansom jerked slightly as the driver flicked his whip at the horse and it jolted into motion, and since he hadn't corrected me for the amount I'd paid him, I was assuming I'd gotten it right.

Either that or I had overpaid him by a lot and he was just counting it as a tip.

Wrapping my scarf more securely around my face and my quickly-freezing ears, I opened the rucksack Ciel had lent me and began fishing around inside it. My brand-new Bowie knife was safely tucked in its sheath, with included a convenient loop of leather, and I spared a moment to strap it around my leg, the knife laying against the outside of my upper thigh and more or less invisible under the ruffled dress I was wearing. I'd have to ask Miss Nina about putting strategically placed slits in my clothing so that I could reach such weapons more easily, but for now, it would do.

There were several small loaves of bread wrapped in wax paper, from the Covent Market, and a small sugar-cake in a pasteboard box. I'd also managed to secure some inexpensive ribbons to tie my hair back with, since I'd been unable to find any modern (or even any modern-esque) hair bands to tie my increasingly long hair back with.

Speak of the devil, I shook my head rapidly and used the back of my arm to brush a fallen strand of hair out of my eyes, since I couldn't blow it away due to the scarf in front of my mouth. _Yes, it's definitely a good idea to go visit a barber._

As I lowered my arm and pulled back my sleeve, I saw by my digital watch that it was somewhere around 5 PM, American time, and 17.00 everybody-else-time. If I hurried, I could go to the barber and get my…extracurricular activities…done with before I returned to the townhouse for dinner. Eating with Soma and Agni instead out buying something out here only saved me a few pounds (less, actually, since everything in this time period was so comparatively dirt-cheap), but more or less living under my own power –and budget– over these past few months had taught me that it was never a smart idea to turn down free _anything_.

The horse-drawn hansom rattled along the cobblestone streets, and I returned to people-watching, wrapping my arms around my borrowed rucksack like it was a teddy bear to keep it from being bounced out. I myself was nearly not so lucky, and I had several moments of near-panic as the carriage turned corners or bounced over potholes and I realized, while seatbelts seemed obviously necessary in modern times, back in the Victorian age one just simply had to hold on and trust their luck.

Hanging off the back of the carriage seemed oddly inviting, right now.

But the ride was over quicker than I expected, and the hansom dropped me off on Fleet Street while the sun's glow was still a red smear on the horizon, stark against the black-smoke-belching chimneys of London. The air was sharp and cold against my nose as I hopped out and gave the driver a friendly nod, pulling my directions out again and looking down as he rattled off in search of more customers.

 _(Dunstan's Barber Shoppe) 186 Fleet Street_

I glanced back up again, running my tongue along my lower lip absently as I searched for the matching address and storefront name. I was starting to get hungry, and wanted to finish this as quickly as possible.

Passing an old woman pushing a pie cart –heading indoors, now– I finally spotted the shop, looking sooty and mildewed in the late London evening. The glass in the front window was smeared and grimy, and I made a face as I pushed open the door. Sanitation was disgustingly absent in this century.

A bell tinkled above my head as I stepped into the shop, but oddly enough I didn't see anybody else inside. All there was was a single barber's chair, already tilted back and ready. "Uh, hello?" I tried loudly, my voice echoing in the empty room

"Coming!" A voice called faintly in the distance. "Just a second, miss!"

Shrugging, I decided to hop onto the chair and save time. I promptly regretted that decision, however, as soon as my head made contact with the cold metal headrest, for two reasons. Number one, this chair felt as if it hadn't been cleaned in years. However, the second, more unsettling reason, was because it faced away from the door that lead further into the shop, where the barber's voice had come from, and due to the configuration of the metal arms and back I couldn't turn my head to look unless I craned my body up and twisted myself at an awkward, shaky angle.

Granted this wasn't majorly unsettling, but I was still antsy. I didn't like the idea of someone coming up behind me, doubly so when that person would be wielding a sharp object.

A sharp clatter interrupted my thoughts, and I scooted around in the chair to twist backwards and glance around the back of the seat. The man whom I assumed to be the proprietor of this shop –and the barber himself– had just bustled into the room, dragging with him a small wooden cart with a porcelain bowl of water, some scissors, and an old-fashioned razor blade on top. I gulped slightly at the sight of the razor, which reminded me uncomfortably of a certain scary someone's weapon of choice.

"Been having a nice day, miss?" he asked cheerily as he manhandled the wobbly cart over to the chair. His voice was distracted, although bubbly, and he seemed to be a rather frazzled, absent-minded soul. Definitely not Oliver. I remembered my place in the moment and shook my head rapidly to clear it, then offered him a shy, hesitant smile.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I said shortly, sliding back down to my former position and twisting around to face the way I was supposed to. "It's been busy."

"Busy's good!" he said happily, pumping a small lever as the chair began to tilt backward even more, like a dentist's chair, and I felt a trace of alarm.

"Um, yeah, so I need a haircut?" I interrupted awkwardly, indicating this by holding up a lock of my shoulderblade-length hair.

He blinked at me several times from his awkward position behind my head. "I'm afraid haircuts are not in my repertoire, miss." he told me apologetically, and I stiffened as I felt the cold brush of the razor against my cheek. "Shaving though, I can do shaving." he added hopefully from somewhere behind and above me, sounding happier as he did.

I was trying very hard not to get nervous at the familiar weapon touching my skin. "Ah –no."

"Oh." He lowered the razor, looking disappointed. "I could give you quite a polish though. The smoothest shave ever done."

I slumped slightly in the chair, slipping my hand into my coat and wrapping my fingers around the butt of my gun. It made me feel better, even though I obviously couldn't and wouldn't shoot this guy. "Um, that's nice mister, but I really don't need a shave. Just a haircut. If you can't do that, then I'm gonna make my way home." I told him, smiling awkwardly back into his face. He smiled back, and I tipped myself out of the chair.

"You look after me if you ever do need a shave, miss!" he told me cheerily as I walked out the door, and I nodded to him and tipped my straw hat. "I'll do that, mister." I replied, suddenly very thankful that I still had a razor from the 21st century.

Who knew how clumsy these 19th-century barbers were with their blades.

 _***Time Skip***_

With all of my mundane business taken care of, I had hitched another carriage ride –on the back, since it was significantly darker now and nobody would be around to gawk– to the nearest park. There was one more thing I had to do before I turned in for the night, and in the long run, it would be the most important.

As the carriage bounced and rattled along, I was somewhat amused and secretly grateful to see various other people also hopping rides in the same fashion as myself –although they were all invariably much dirtier, younger, and male. (Or at least, young enough and short-haired enough to appear that way.) It seemed as though the fictional _Monsieur_ Jack Harkett had been accurate in his description of his fellow London street population.

But anyway, the carriage soon rattled and bounced past one of London's many parks, and I scooted off, doing my best to avoid the brownish, mushy splatters in the street. They could be mud picked up on the wheels and the horses' shoes, or they could be something far worse that also had to do with the equine animals.

Best not to think about that.

I marched onto the pavement and into the park, looking around carefully to make sure nobody would see what I was up. Luckily, as the evening was getting on, most people seemed disinclined to be out and about in the half-frozen-slush-filled patch of grass and shrubs, and I made my way over to the twisted, brownish-green remains of what I assumed would be a flowerbed when spring finally came around.

Giving the darkened park another quick glance, I reached into my rucksack and pulled out the pasteboard box with the sugar-cake. Facing the flowerbeds, I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated hard, focusing on the familiar shape of a pentacle and the purpose I wanted to give it. "A feast in return for a favor." I said clearly, opening the box and holding it out as I released the pentagram with a twist of my will.

There was a delicate impact on the pasteboard, and I opened my eyes to see a pixie inspecting the cake inside. I grinned, pleased that I had managed to use the same invitation as I had back at the Crystal Palace without the cumbersome process of drawing it out.

The fairy chirped imperiously, directing my attention back to her as I smiled sheepishly. She was dark-skinned with enormous hazel-brown eyes, and her black hair was twisted up on top of her head in an imitation of some kind of Asian style, complete with teeny-tiny decorative sticks, and her dress was wrapped some kind of cloak or coat made of fluffy black fur –probably the stolen lining from a mitten. Her wings were clear and paned, like a dragonfly's, although she used them something like a cricket's as they slowed fluttered to a halt and hung down her back.

"I need to find some books on magic –grimoires, spellbooks, rune indexes, whatever. I don't know where the shops that sell them are." I told her. "I'm collecting the sigils that represent things in this world so that I can go back home to mine. Will you help me?"

She chirped an affirmative and then reached for the cake. I saw the faint glows and flutters that signaled other fairies approaching, and obligingly held the cake out further, looking around in vain for a spot to sit. Fairies didn't weigh a lot, but they did have substance, and there were a whole lot of them using my arm as a resting place. I couldn't exactly just let it fall, after all, as that would be inexcusably rude (not to mention it would make the cake fall on the muddy, slushy, half-frozen ground).

Oh well. I needed the arm-improvement exercise anyway.

I waited patiently for the fairies to dole out the sugar cake amongst themselves, then waited for the inevitable chirping and squabbling between them to cease; much like bugs, most pixies didn't like cold weather, and it made their (already somewhat volatile) tempers flare up unpredictably. Finally after a solid five minutes, they ceased bickering with each other, and a few of them fluttered up into the air as the rest of them immediately either dove for my scarf to burrow under it for warmth or disappeared in small explosions of delicate, tiny sparks in various bright colors.

One of the ones hovering in front of me, with luminous deep green eyes and short spiky brown hair that I would be prepared to swear was slicked up with gel, chittered something and beckoned eagerly, and nothing loathe, I followed, feeling the fairies burrow further inside my scarf and coat and causing a feeling similar to little electric shocks every time they touched my skin. The wind whistled and blew sharply through the various alleyways and small, twisted roads of this part of town as I walked, and sometimes presented such a force against their flight that the fairies leading me took similar refuge in my clothing, guiding me through small squeaks and and gentle tugs at the parts of my clothes covering them.

In this fashion me and my guides progressed through the tangled maze of London streets and alleys and byways and lord knew what else, leaving me with confirmation of my somewhat mixed feelings on the neatness of American architecture. On one hand, the mathematically straight and imposing steel-and concrete skyscrapers of my homeland didn't afford much of the same charming…what was the word, quaintness, of European cities, what with all their various mixes of styles and ages and whatnot.

On the other hand, the hemmed-in conglomerate of a thousand-odd years' collection of higglety-pigglety buildings and crammed-together streets was _bloody hard to navigate_.

One of the fairies buried beneath my coat suddenly chirped, tugging at one of the buttons near my breastbone. Since she was on the right, I experimentally turned on my heel in that direction, and a chorus of encouraging chirps and twittering came from inside my clothes as I eyed the grungy alleyway directly in front of me with misgiving. If this was a horror movie, I was fairly certain the audience would be screaming " _don't you fucking **dare**_ " at the screen, because the only thing the door at the end lacked were theatrical blood splatters and perhaps a grim warning carved in stone –one that rhymed, of course.

However, since this _wasn't_ a horror movie, and I had yet to see a pixie give me bad advice, I drew my coat closer around myself –being careful not to squish anyone inside– and stepped into the alley, feeling the wind die down as I did. Several of the more insulated fairies then flitted out into the air in front of me, lighting the ominous-looking area in soft pastel glows as they all looked at me and smiled encouragingly.

I looked down at the doorknob, gulped, and reminded myself that I had both a gun _and_ a combat knife on me at the moment, and swung open the door, taking a step forward into the dim gloom of the building as the pixies all crowded in behind me.

My first impression of the badly-lit room was that of warmth; either it was better insulated than any building I'd seen in this era to date, or somebody had built up a really roaring fire. As I blinked several times and my eyes adjusted to the abrupt change in light, I realized that it was the latter; at the other end of a room stuffed with overflowing bookshelves there was a fireplace wider than I was tall, and inside it was a host of merrily dancing flames that filled the large (but rather cramped) room with waves of heat. They should have also filled it with light, but as I blinked again and did a double-take, I noticed that the fire was black, with little silver glints and shading that were just like the color variation in _real_ flames.

Well, that definitely confirmed that this was a place connected to magic somehow.

As I tore my eyes away from the fascinating fireplace, my eyes raked over the cluttered room, watching more of the fairies flit out of my clothes to inspect their surroundings. The space a little ways in front of the hearth was clear, probably to preserve the books from any heat-damage, but practically every other inch of the shop was stuffed with books, books, and more books, stacked on top of the crammed shelves, spilling over the ground, and bursting from the walls that were also lined with bookshelves. I could feel my fingers itching with literary greed just _looking_ at the place.

I could feel the knot of tension between my shoulders loosen up, though, because at least _now_ I had some kind of assistance with the momentous task of assembling my own magical dimension spell. _If_ I could find the books I needed amidst this…warzone, that is.

I sighed and then tugged the collar of my coat open, beginning to shed the heavy fabric before I started to sweat unpleasantly. _It's something, it's always **something**_. I thought with a weary sigh as I started towards the nearest bookshelf, and I craned my head sideways to read the faded titles on the topmost shelf.

 _Herbal Remedys For The Magickal Afflictions Caused In Spellcasting, The Study and Practise of Communing with Daemons, something in French about wand(s), something in Greek, hey is that like Czech? And here's something in like Chinese, aaaaand that looks like a demon on its cover so moving the fuck on, no, no, no, hey, German! Oh, it's about Weiße Frauen. Welp, I'm not exactly interested in impossible quests not my own **or** nude sunbathing women, so back on the shelf you go. Nope, nope, Latin, nope, the hell kind of language is **that**? Was this somebody's personal grimoire? Nope, nope, nah, nu-uh, no, and nein._

A sudden chorus of frightened, high-pitched cheeps made me whip my head up again, and I gaped as all the various pixies that had followed me into the store dove for me and my clothing, worming under my sleeves and collar and my scarf and even going to far as to (attempt to) hide in my hair. "What's wrong?" I asked in surprise and no small amount of urgency, since something that could spook a fairy was by definition bad news, and one of the ones buried in my scarf reached up to tug a strand of my blonde hair, urging me to look to the left. I looked, and gulped as I saw a crabbed-looking man stumping through my aisle of shelves.

He had a tangled, greasy mass of black hair that fell over his eyes so that I couldn't guess their color, and a ragged white scar cut across his weathered face. He was dressed in what I could tell was a very cheap black suit, heavily patched and tattered, and even though he walked firmly, I got the suggestion that his joints pained him. I guesstimated his age to be about thirty or forty, and as I reflexively pressed up against the bookshelves to let him pass, I caught a whiff of some kind of brandy, and another sickly-sweet stretch under _that_ that made my heart twist and pound against my ribs –a scent that I had at one point only associated with _Oliver_ , until Britain had taught me better.

 _Rotting flesh._

Necromancer, kooky self-science project, or just some creep that happened to work with dead body parts, he was still an evil or at least a corrupt user of magic, and I was staying the _fuck_ away from him. I swallowed hard as I pressed more tightly against the shelf, feeling book spines dig into my back, completely understanding why the pixies had reacted so badly the black-haired man's presence. The anti-magic that necromancy required –yes, almost certainly a necromancer, I decided as I saw a skeletal tattoo on his neck– was anathema to them, poison to their very senses, because necromatic magic so badly warped the natural order of the world in order for people to see (or more often, just hear) the people who had passed beyond the veil.

The necromancer paused to glare at me as he passed, and I gulped as I saw the double-take when he noticed the pixies in my clothes. I could feel his gaze rise to my face, and he sneered wordlessly at me before whirling and continuing to stalk through the shelves. I could practically hear his disdain for the sissy blonde apprentice –and who'd apprentice a mere _female_ , anyways?– who was so doe-eyed and naïve that she actually bothered to _befriend_ mere magical creatures, especially such twinkle-toed do-gooders as fairies.

 _The antipathy is mutual, you money-grubbing bereaved-tormenting soul-stealing bastard._ I thought as I glared after his back, remembering what my teacher had told me about necromancers. Contrary to popular belief, seeing or hearing your beloved loved ones after they died was neither comforting to the still-living nor gave them any closure. It was sort of like calling home when you were homesick; you might _think_ it'd make you feel better, but it always just ended up in making you feel worse. Necromancers got rich off of people who didn't know that and dumped money in their hands again and again to catch a glimpse or hear a whisper of the person(s) that they lost. The spirits the necromancer bound were also in incredible torment, because nine times out of ten they weren't _supposed_ to be back on this side of the veil, or limbo, or whatever else the place between the afterlife and the real world could be called. The metaphor that _I_ most vividly recalled my teacher using was that pulling spirits out of the afterlife was like yanking a seven-month baby out of its mom by the umbilical cord –you had to be a _special_ kind of asshole to do it.

Ideally, I would have liked to shove him into the fireplace and/or riddle his back with bullets, but since attacking another magician of unknown power and temperament probably wouldn't end well for me, I had to be content with glaring after his back and silently vowing to look up some spells I could use to sic something violent and hungry on his ass.

Then I remembered I was supposed to be good and keep my head down and nose clean, under threat of Sebastian, and swore under my breath.

 _Maybe I can sic a barghest on him._

 _ **11.50 AM, USA Central Time**_


End file.
